


Down Season

by arrow_jack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parenting, Bisexuality, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homosexuality, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Violence, References to Suicide, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Self-Harm, Teenage Castiel/Teenage Dean Winchester, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-10-24 20:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_jack/pseuds/arrow_jack
Summary: Dean Winchester always had to be strong. Castiel Novak has always been obedient.What starts as a friendship between the two escalates into something closer as Castiel rebels against his parents and Dean comes across a feeling he can't shake. Navigating their teenage years has been easy around each other until their fates are altered and their world is turned upside down.**On hiatus until later**





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first actual chapter fanfic! I'll be updating it weekly with a new chapter or two.  
> Enjoy reading!

**Prologue**

_December 8th_

Look out the car window.

Watch the trees pass by. They pass in a quick, green blur. The individual ones are too hard to focus on, but it's better to look at them and silence the thoughts in his head.

It’s taking forever. He wants to be at home. He feels like he's holding back a wild horse with a string. But he’s so close, almost there. He's driving on autopilot, as it comes naturally at this point, but he doesn't even take the time to notice any neighbors that could be waving at him or residents that could be staring. It’s like holding a glass bowl with his fingers, knowing he can’t drop it. Not yet. See the driveway, it’s just up the street. He knows exactly where he is. It feels like he's trying to silence music playing on a speaker. Pulling in, so close, and then he's scrambling out of the car.

_Physically, I could be as silent as a mute person. Mentally, I’m screaming. Just screaming and nothing else. Screaming about how frustrated I am. I can't do anything. I have no control anymore._

He races up the stairs to the bathroom. He swings open the bathroom door and slams it behind him. Once the door is locked, the dam gives out. His eyes are bloodshot already. His legs buckle and he's on the bathroom floor. His chest heaves violently in a desperate attempt to breathe. He bites down on his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. There are tears, falling to the ground. He doesn't even realize how tight his hands were gripping onto the bottom of his shirt until it was wrinkled up and tattered.

_Usually, people think the worst type of crying is when you’re screaming and wailing. They think that’s the most intense it can get._

It’s as intense as screaming at the top of his lungs. He's shaking noticeably at this point and sobbing so hard that no sound comes out. There's no sound- not a whimper, not even a choked sob. He's crying so hard that it’s a struggle to simply breathe in and out. There is nothing; his body is limp aside from tense muscles and a clenched jaw, and then there's a sudden gasp for air he desperately clings to until his body forces out the air. He struggles to inhale again but takes in as much air as he can during the window between the sobs.

_Well, they’re wrong. They are so terribly mistaken._

“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe” is like a chant his thoughts repeat. He could barely even think about breathing, let alone the hundreds of thoughts clouding up his mind. Somehow he gets hold of his phone. He shoves his earbuds into his ears and turns on the first song he sees. It leaves him as a mess propped up against the wall. It lets him breathe, but keeps him crying.

_The most intense type of crying is when you’re crying so hard you can’t make any noise. You can’t breathe. The only movement you make is hitting something, anything, trying to make yourself take a breath. And I can't stop- I can't stop until I pass out. It's that kind of crying that just won't go down easy. I hate it, so much, because a man doesn't cry the way I do. I cry like a heartbroken twelve-year-old schoolgirl. This sucks._

All he could think of is how pathetic and weak he must've looked. He's not a cryer, and he never wanted to be, yet here he was. Barely functioning.

Then, a variety of thoughts began to flood his brain. He wanted to reverse time, go back before he could mess it all up. Except he didn’t mess it all up. He was just there, and maybe his very existence was a curse.  _He_ was the common denominator either way. He wanted to go back to the way things were. Back to the basics, back to the beaches, back to where he felt okay. He wanted control over his life, but it got out of hand really fast.

_I don't belong here. They don't understand, and if I try to explain it to them, they'll think I'm a crazy freak. And I've realized that nobody really wants me here- except for Sam. For some reason, I keep doing this over and over, keep wanting to go home. I don't even know what home is anymore._

_The thing is, this thing - whatever it is - is bigger than me. This feeling, these wants, these tendencies, they all make up some big problem. And it shadows over me and burdens me. I don't even know what to do anymore. I thought it was just depression or something, but I don't think it's even possible for it to get this bad._

His breath began to regulate. After a moment of keeping his breathing steady, the song ended. He reached for the counter to pull himself up. He unlocked the door, walked to his room, and rolled into his bed. He tiredly reached for his notebook and a pencil. He wouldn't write about anyone or anything; he wouldn't write about how filled with rage he was. Not this time. This time, he would write about how out of place he felt. He was a pest wherever he went.

He wanted to go home he felt  _homesick_.

And then he realized that home is gone forever.


	2. Normalcy

**Normalcy**

 

_January 16th_

 

_We are the future they are making._

_We spend time learning the Pythagorean theorem. The honor roll students know everything in their math books._

_We are the change in society._

_We spend time studying and doing homework. We ace the quizzes._

_But do we really know how to change the world?_

 

It was a Tuesday in January.

The sudden beeping of an alarm jolted Dean Winchester out of bed. He groaned as he reached out, fingers trying to locate the off button. He sat on the side of his bed once the alarm stopped, attempting to open his heavy eyelids. His body begged him to go back to sleep, but he knew he had to go to school.

He put on his regular outfit for the cold Colorado weather- jeans, a plain t-shirt, flannel, and a leather jacket. He couldn't care less about his appearance and didn’t comb his hair or wash his face. It wasn’t part of the usual routine anyway.

He skipped breakfast since he barely even had five minutes until he had to leave. He drove himself to school in his father’s Impala.

The first few periods, as expected, were long and slow. You could see the sleep in most people’s eyes- except, of course, for the teachers, who were too bubbly and happy for half-awake teenagers.

In fourth period, Dean saw his best friend Castiel. He was the only actual friend Dean had at school. The other one was Lisa, who lived in California.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted, setting his backpack down by his chair.

“Hi,” Dean said, eyes still drooping. “I'm tired.”

“Me too,” Castiel agreed.

Dean ambled over to his desk, dropping his backpack right beside it and pulling out a pencil.

The math teacher gave them their warm up. Dean filled it out, but it was just barely meeting her expectations.

Math seemed to take forever. Dean was zoning out and writing nonsense into his journal for most of the class. Castiel, however, would raise his hand to give answers to math problems or ask questions. He was the kind of learner that gave everything a bit of thought. Eventually, the class period ended and they were dismissed.

On the way to lunch, Castiel and Dean were walking side-by-side.

“What's up with you?” Dean asked.

“Nothing much, but yesterday my brother got a girlfriend, apparently,” Castiel said as they approached the lunch table they sat at every day.

Dean raised an eyebrow, sliding his backpack under his seat. “And that's a bad thing?” Dean questioned.

“No,” he shrugged, “just weird because he's my brother and he has a girlfriend and I haven't even _kissed_ anyone.”

Dean set his lunch bag down on the table and sat down. "So you're jealous then," he declared, pulling out the peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the bag.

"No, I'm not jealous," Castiel declined, "I just think that maybe I should be first."

"Dude. You're fifteen. That's on you," Dean defended as he stuffed his mouth with a bite of his sandwich.

"I just...think it's weird that nothing has happened to me but everyone likes him," Castiel shrugged, "I don't think it's my fault. I just think that it's strange."

“Why? ‘Cause you don't believe in _love_?” Dean teased. 

Castiel chuckled as he dumped out the contents of his lunch bag onto the table. “No! I do believe in love, probably more than you do.”

“You should become a hippie. They're right up your street,” Dean nudged.

Castiel shot him a playful glare and shook his head before other kids interrupted them.

“Hey, Cas. Hey, Dean,” one of the girls at their table said.

“Hello, Hannah,” Castiel said.

The table group went on about their mindless chatter about the same things- their classes, who's dating who, and the like. Castiel was friends with everyone at the table; their parents all knew each other. Dean knew who they were, but by no means did he like any of them. He acted civil anyway.

“Cas, look,” Dean pointed to the announcements board. “They're starting up select theatre this semester.”

“I know, I got an invitation to join,” Castiel said.

“Wait, can I not join?” Dean asked.

“It's _select_ , Dean, not free-for-all,” Castiel said. “Besides, you're more of a tech crew kind of guy.”

“Oh. Okay, whatever, they'll miss out on my superb acting skills,” Dean claimed. He didn't think too much of it, though.

“Hey, what are you doing after school today?” he asked.

“Going to your house if I can,” Castiel declared.

“Cool.”

They finished their lunches before being dismissed.

“Wait, Dean, what are we doing in science?” Castiel asked.

“Uh...you're taking notes on energy transfers,” he explained.

“Okay, thanks.” Castiel turned away.

“Cas! You have to tell me what we do in language arts,” Dean said.

Cas turned around, with a quick, “Oh yeah.”

“Yeah, don't forget about me,” Dean teased.

“You're reading your assigned book and then you're filling out a reading check,” Castiel told him.

He nodded. “Okay, see you later.”

He waved goodbye and they walked opposite directions to their classes.

The rest of the day passed somewhat quickly. The sun shone high in the sky by 2:25 PM. The dismissal bell rang at 2:30, followed by an exodus of kids leaving the school. Dean navigated the crowd and spotted Castiel, walking with crossed arms and tense shoulders as kids pushed and shoved past him.

“Cas!” Dean called, pushing past the rowdy kids that he seemed to tower over.

Castiel turned his head towards the direction of Dean’s voice and stopped by the side of the sea of kids heading towards the parking lot. He patiently waited for Dean. Dean found his way out and walked with Cas towards his father's Impala. They drove home while Dean complained about how terribly other kids drove.

They did their homework together, goofed around, and watched some movies. 

"What are we watching today?" Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

"What's that terrible chick-flick you told me about?" 

"First of all, _Titanic_ is also an action movie. Second, no," Dean claimed.

"Alright. My parents would probably kill me if I watched it anyway," Cas stated.

"You're too goody-two-shoes," Dean said, "but it's PG-13. You're fifteen."

"Yes, but they like me to watch movies that aren't all romance-y."

"They're gonna double-murder you when you kiss someone. Anyway, you watch whatever." Dean tossed the remote to Cas.

Dean made sure to narrate all unnecessary commentary throughout the movie.

Same old, same old.

 

***

_January 20th_

 

_They are the wind and I am the tree. I am the trunk and you are the root. The wind can pick up but you won’t blow away. I can be naked without leaves and bark, but you would still ground me._

_Inseparable like magnets, the roots of the tree never fail to hold up the trunk._

 

January 20th was Lisa's birthday. She was turning seventeen.

She was, of course, picky about her presents as any teenager is. She got what she asked for, though, and didn't complain.

That day, school lasted an eternity. All Dean wanted to do was go home and sleep. At lunch, Castiel asked what Dean was doing for the rest of the day.

“Can't do too much,” Dean said, “it’s Lisa’s birthday today. She's gonna be wanting to call me a lot.”

“Oh, yeah.” Castiel pulled a bar of candy from his lunch and handed it to Dean. “Send this to her and tell her I said happy birthday.”

Cas was always thoughtful like that. Every other boy only cared about girls and sports and the most shallow things. Dean was angsty and Cas was sensitive. Dean was different and Cas was mature. He understood.

Lisa enjoyed the phone calls with Dean and the birthday wish from Castiel.

Dean sent off the candy bar in a slightly belated birthday package the following morning.

* * *

The next few days rolled around fast. School, home; eat, sleep- a constant cycle. As the days passed, Dean felt like he was dragging himself along more and more. Everything he did became a little harder.

He blamed it on insomnia.

In language arts, he found himself writing more than he was learning. He wrote a lot about the ocean. He used it metaphorically. He didn’t really know what his metaphors represented, but he understood them in some way or another anyway.

His pencil was the outlet of another idea.

 

_Black oceans are blue in the daytime._

_Aquamarine turned red as the fish die._

_The predator and the prey,_

_The hunters and the foxes,_

_God amongst barbarians._

 

He pressed the eraser to his lips as he stared down at the paper, waiting for another idea to sprout in his head.

“Winchester, pay attention,” the teacher snapped.

Dean snapped back into reality immediately. “Sorry, Mrs. Loughman,” he said.

He couldn’t help but space out. Every class just felt useless. He couldn’t find any questions; he couldn’t make any up in his head to at least help try paying attention.

He preferred staring at an unfilled worksheet. He didn’t think about what the worksheet asked him to do; he honestly didn’t think about anything.

When the teacher instructed them to do group work, he would walk over to someone he knew and ask them what they were supposed to do. He was irritated at himself since he couldn’t even follow simple directions right. Dean wondered how his younger brother Sam did it effortlessly, yet he couldn’t even be an honor roll student if he tried.

After school, he did the bare minimum he had to do for math homework. He neglected the rest of his homework. On Thursday, he knew he’d regret it, but what did it really matter anyway?

* * *

He woke up late on January 24th. He decided against going to school and took the day off to celebrate his birthday. Sam decided he’d stay home with him.

Dean cooked omelets for them to share.

“So...any big plans?” Sam asked.

“Don’t know. I mean, maybe I’ll get us dinner or something,” Dean shrugged.

“We could go to Missouri’s diner,” Sam suggested. “She makes a heavenly apple pie.”

Dean’s mouth watered and he nodded. “Okay, sure, we’ll go.”

“Is Dad coming home for dinner?” Sam questioned.

Dean shook his head and swallowed a bite of eggs. “He’s in Oklahoma. I called him a week ago.”

Sam frowned. “Sorry, Dean.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Dean assured.

After they finished eating, Sam handed Dean a present. The wrapping was messy and the gift itself was small, but it put a smile on Dean’s face.

“Wait, don’t open it yet,” Sam told him. He led Dean to the couch, where there were a couple of other presents and some cards.

Sam handed him a card. “Open that first.” Dean opened up the card, which read:

  
_Dean,_

_I know you like food. Happy birthday. You’re sixteen- you’ve become an old man. Dad’s got competition._

_Love,_

_Sam_

 

Dean read the card and chuckled. “Sam, you little-”

“I know, I know,” Sam cut him off. “Open the presents.”

He opened the smaller one with the messy wrapping first. Inside was a shirt, neatly folded. He spread it out.

It was grey. In the middle, there was a picture of bacon.

“Of course you would get me this,” Dean laughed.

“Do you like it?” Sam inquired.

“Are you kidding?” Dean held the shirt up to his shoulders. “I love this thing!”

Sam smiled wide.

Dean opened another card, addressed to him from his father. It read:

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I know I can’t be home for your birthday.  Sorry. Treat yourself to dinner on me. I hope things go well._

_Sincerely,_

_Dad_

 

His face faded to show neutrality with sad undertones. He lightened up when he noticed that there was two twenty dollar bills in the card.

Dean held it up. “Well, Sammy, we have ourselves dinner.”

Dean also got a new pair of boots from Bobby, who was a close family friend and father figure to the Winchester boys. Aside from that, there weren’t any presents.

* * *

At 5:00 PM, there was a knock on Dean’s door. Dean opened it to reveal Castiel.

“Happy birthday, Dean!” Cas cheered.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean beamed. He opened the door wider so Cas would come inside.

Cas sat down on the couch and Dean closed the door behind him.

“I got you a present,” Cas said and handed him a box wrapped neatly with a bow on top.

Dean sat down and took it. He unwrapped it to show a pack of gum and earbuds.

“I know your last earbuds broke, so I thought you’d like it,” Cas said.

“I do,” Dean looked up and smiled at him. “Thanks.”

The earbuds weren’t the cheap knock-off kind, either. Dean tested them out to find they were better quality than he expected. He put them back in their container.

“Me and Sam are going to Missouri’s for dinner,” Dean told Cas. “You wanna come?”

Castiel nodded. He texted his mom to let her know.

“Sammy, put your shoes on! We’re leaving!” Dean ordered. He slid the $40 his father gave him into his pocket.

“You want shotgun, Cas?” Dean asked as he grabbed the keys.

“Sure, but...Sam always gets it. Are you sure?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, well, I’m feeling generous today,” Dean shrugged.

Once Sam had his shoes on, the three got into the black Impala.

Sam grabbed the door handle on the front passenger’s side.

“Ah-ah-ah, Cas gets it today,” Dean stated.

Sam groaned and got into the back.

During the short drive there, they rocked out to AC/DC, laughed, and started to let loose and relax.

The trio walked into Missouri’s restaurant. Missouri spotted Dean immediately.

“Dean Winchester! Nice seeing you around!” she called. “One second, honey, I’m finishin’ this up.”

Dean nodded and waited patiently.

Missouri was a short and stocky black woman who obviously had Southern roots. You could hear it in her voice and taste it in her food. She made the best cajun fried and spiced foods, among many other Southern-based dishes.

“Sam, you've gotten taller. You're catchin’ up to Dean, I see,” she said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, and he's a year older as of today,” Sam stated.

“Oh! Well, happy birthday, Dean!” she congratulated. "How old are you now?"

"Thanks. I'm sixteen," he responded.

"Sweet sixteen, huh?" Missouri smiled. "Well, what a special day. Now, just sit right wherever you want and I’ll take your orders,” she said.

Dean led Sam and Castiel to the booth closest to the kitchen. Missouri gave them each a menu.

“Budget’s $40, so don’t go crazy,” Dean reminded.

“Speak for yourself,” Sam chuckled.

“Uh-uh. Meal’s on the house. Pick whatever you want. It's my present to you,” Missouri interrupted.

Dean got a cajun-spiced hamburger, fries, a milkshake, and pie. Sam, on the other hand, got a caesar salad with a Pepsi. Cas had a normal burger and water.

“Dean, can I have some of your milkshake?” Castiel asked.

Dean gulped down some fries, then replied, “Yeah, I don't care.”

Cas sipped from the single straw. He eyed the untouched cherry on top with a smear of leftover whipped cream that had obviously been eaten by Dean. He took it from Cas' grip, took a sip to wash down the food he was eating, and slid it back over to Castiel. Cas took another sip, noticing the salty taste of french fries Dean left on the straw.

“And the cutest couple award goes to Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak!” Sam announced sarcastically.

Dean nearly choked on his burger. “Sam, shut the hell up!" he exclaimed.

Cas rolled his eyes and laughed. He then playfully nudged Dean. “Lighten up! He's only kidding, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I'm the one who lives with him.”

Sam chuckled. “I think what he's trying to say is that he loves it when I call you guys a couple,” he claims.

“No, I don't!” Dean's cheeked were dusted a light shade of red as he denied Sam's statements.

“You two,” Cas shook his head and smiled.

“Whatever, it’s mostly him,” Dean crossed his arms.

Castiel rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “So you ate all of the whipped cream but not the cherry?” Cas asked as he slid the glass back to Dean.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and stared at Castiel, acting offended, before asking, “You judgin’ me?”

“If I say no, can I have the cherry?”

Dean nodded and his face relaxed. “They're gross. Take it.” Castiel ate it, then started moving his jaw and tongue around.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

Cas held up his index finger, signifying to Dean that he should wait. Dean stared in confusion before Cas pulled the little cherry stem out of his mouth. He held it up in front of Sam and Dean.

"Okay, it's a stem," Dean stated.

Cas deadpanned. "Look closer."

"It's in a knot," observed Sam.

"I can tie cherry stems in a knot with my tongue," Cas exclaimed.

"Oh. Cool," Dean said.

Missouri came out with another plate. It had a slice of apple pie with a candle on top.

“Couldn't find the candles, so it took a little longer than everything else,” Missouri explained, “but here you go!”

“Thanks,” Dean said.

Missouri got out a match from a matchbox in her apron pocket. She lit the birthday candle with the match.

“Alrighty, I'm counting you off. We're singing the birthday song, right?” Missouri asked.

“Uh, I'm good, really,” Dean insisted before being overruled by Sam.

“Yeah, count us off!” Sam told her.

“Okay,” she began, “And-a-one, and-a-two-”

They all started singing happy birthday to Dean. He smiled like a goof as they sang the song. He realized that he loved the sounds of Castiel's voice when he was singing. He wished he could hear him sing to him, just his voice alone.

“Make a wish and blow out the candles, honey!” Missouri beamed.

Dean inhaled and blew out the candle. He wished for happiness- not just for him, but for Sam and Castiel to be happy, too. Missouri, Sam, and Castiel applauded him and cheered him on.

His birthday ended all too soon because it only seemed like 20 minutes later he was laying on his bed.

He already missed the diner, the perfect apple pie, the laughter that Dean could feel down to his belly, and the lighthearted conversations and jokes. He missed Castiel, his voice, his very presence- it could soothe him in the blink of an eye. He missed the moment. The moment was gone, but he knew that in a perfect world, moments like that would happen every day. He realized all good things do come to an end.

It began to weigh him down.

* * *

Dean woke up the next morning feeling a substantial amount of fatigue and some feeling that felt low. He assumed that it was because he stayed up too late, hyped about his birthday, and now he was tired because of it.

He blamed that on insomnia, too.

But he couldn't blame everything on his insomnia. He couldn't blame it for the countless times he'd have a complete meltdown for no reason- home alone, yelling and kicking the wall in frustration. He couldn't blame it for the fact that he stopped even trying in school. He couldn't blame it for the toxic relationship with his father. He couldn't blame it for hating himself.

But every teen feels that way, right? Nothing is wrong with him. There can't be anything wrong, he's just a normal teen. He was overthinking.

He wasn't  _depressed_.

That’s weak, and Dean wasn’t weak. He couldn’t be- not for Sam, not for the world. It was just a stupid thought.  _There are kids starving and dying out there,_ he thought,  _and I’m worrying if I’m depressed._ He silently cursed at himself.

He pushed the idea out of his head and filled his head with thoughts of Castiel and anxieties about school.

* * *

 

_January 25th_

 

_A mind tormented swirls inside like a thunderstorm._

_A heart corrupted beats with the struggle of a million men._

_A hand shaky writes the inevitable future in fear._

_Welcome to no-man’s land,_

_Otherwise known as my throne._

 

It was 3:00 in the afternoon when Dean was using one of the library's computers. He had finished all of the online documents he had to turn in as homework. He checked his school email, to which there was nothing in the inbox. He had finished everything he needed to do. His eyes wandered to the corner of the computer modem and he zoned out. After maybe thirty seconds of just staring off into space, Dean snapped back into reality.

Out of curiosity and boredom, he typed into the search bar “depression.”

 _Depression: A mental health disorder characterized by persistently depressed mood or loss of interest in activities, causing significant impairment in daily life_.

Dean clicked on the subtopic titled  _Symptoms._

_Symptoms are sadness, unmotivation, lack of energy, insomnia, anxiety... suicidal thoughts, or self-harm._

Dean sighed in relief.

He didn't have suicidal thoughts. He didn't self-harm. That meant he couldn’t be depressed. Depression is notorious for a side of suicide and self-harm, right? He wasn’t depressed; he didn’t want to kill himself. He told himself that he was fine, this was all just a temporary feeling.  It was probably just the stress that mid-year exams gave him. He would be sleeping and feeling better in no time.

* * *

When Castiel came over again the following Friday, Dean couldn't simply  _talk_ to him. It seemed like such an exhausting task, even though Castiel was his best friend and talking to him normally came easily. He mostly just watched movies with him after they finished homework to avoid the question of why he was so quiet. Although he forgot the plots of most of the movies and wasn’t really paying attention anyway, he chuckled whenever Cas laughed, or mindlessly nodded whenever he said something.

His mind wandered from the present. He imagined holding Castiel's hand as they watched the movies, being all sappy like the fake couples in movies. He imagined drive-in theaters, a perfect 50’s-inspired date - minus the homophobia, of course. Thinking of Castiel, for some strange reason, kept him going.

When he left in the late afternoon, Dean told Cas to text him later.

* * *

His phone buzzed half an hour after Castiel left.

_Cas: hello_

The speech bubble on the bottom left showed that Cas was still typing.

_Cas: Is everything okay?_

Dean sucked in a breath and started typing back. Every answer he typed he erased multiple times.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he was okay, but ultimately, it didn't matter, right? He thought of telling Cas that maybe he was really down, almost depressed, but not exactly. Dean thought about what he could say. Castiel might overreact and baby him, ask an endless amount of questions, or maybe he just wouldn’t care at all. Either way, he didn’t want to face the repercussions. He quickly decided against it.

_Dean: I'm good, just tired. I think exams are getting to me._

He typed up another text.

_Dean: It doesn't really matter, just thought maybe you should know._

He awaited a response for a couple of minutes.

_Cas: I understand. Is that it? if there's anything else, you know you can talk to me. I am your best friend and you know I could never deliberately judge or hurt you._

Dean was disappointed, but he didn't know why. He wanted so bad just to spill out his guts to Cas, but he didn’t even know how. He didn’t even know what he felt. It was just a big mess inside of his mind.

He didn't know how to respond to that.

His phone buzzed again.

_Cas: Seriously, is there anything I can help with? I don't like you being stressed out. I can tutor you if it's exams. also chewing a mint gum helps you think better during tests and exams._

He shouldn't have said anything. Castiel didn't need anything else to worry about. He should've sucked it up and plastered a smile on his face and kept their friendship worry-free.

_Dean: Cas, I’m okay. Seriously. I'll be okay, I just wanted to clear this up. You know, just cause I didn't talk to you that much today. I didn’t want you to think I was being an ass on purpose, lol._

He felt a pang of hollow guilt and typed another message.

_Dean: I guess I’m having a man period or something. Idk man._

His phone vibrated shortly after it sent.

_Cas: You are loved, Dean. I'll help with whatever you need me to. and remember, don’t be afraid to ask for help :)_

He sighed as he read the text. At least he tried to convince Cas that nothing was wrong. He couldn't even count the number of times he tried to tell Cas that he was fine during the following days. It didn't matter who loved him or wanted to help him. He wasn't happy. He concluded that he had to keep his mouth shut in these kinds of situations.

He figured that, even if he was being a burden, at least it was Cas. Castiel was Dean's rock, his roots, his everything. At least he'd stay. Even if he wouldn't stop bugging him and asking how he felt, it was still Cas. And he wouldn't let go of him easily.


	3. And From the Dark Into the Light

**And From The Dark Into The Light**

_January 26th_

 

_Trees tower over me_

_like limbs reaching for my sanity._

_Mountains cast their shadow over humans_

_when the sun isn’t beating down on us._

_Snow is freezing cold and deadly_

_like_ _a subconscious fear._

_When it melts, it comes out_

_in spurts of anger and anxiety,_

_oozing fresh from my mind._

_It plagues me like a blizzard._

_Suddenly, I’m chest deep in it._

_And yet I trudge on because it's somewhere-_

_Somewhere on top of that mountain_

_is paradise._

 

It was the last weekend in January. Dean was going winter camping as a field trip. There were different groups going at different dates throughout the semester, and he just so happened to be put in a group where he barely knew anyone. It was more like glamping anyway, since they would be in a cabin. A couple of experienced kids slept outside in tents, but it was an unpopular choice because it was well below freezing at night. Dean assumed they just wanted to show off.

Dean was, at first, completely indifferent to the idea of camping with a bunch of people he didn't know very well.

He was going up to the Rockies in Colorado. It was only a few hours away since he lived near Denver. The group left around 4:00 that Friday and arrived at 7:00. The drive up was relatively boring. Dean talked about what everyone else was talking about, or maybe he didn't talk at all. He didn't care enough to remember.

Once they got there, the chaperones who were there ahead of time had dinner all ready for the group. Dean had a single slice of pizza, but not much otherwise.

After dinner, they were dismissed to unpack their belongings in the cabin rooms. Dean brought a lot of unnecessary items in his backpack. He had his clothes, winter gear, and other necessities. He also had a camera, random drawings his brother Sam gave him, a couple of books, and his little secret writing notebook. It had a piece of paper folded in the front where Cas wrote him a little note:

_“Dean, I know things are a bit stressful right now. But just know that you are loved, even if it doesn't feel like it._

_-Cas”_

Under the note was a messy smiley face Cas drew. Dean didn't know when or why Cas wrote that, but he took what he could get.

He used the pages to keep him going because he really just wanted to be home.

After he unpacked, he sat down at the couch where all the other kids were sitting. He didn't really have the mental capacity to socialize, but he found a piano.

He sat on the seat in front of it and began to play a song he knew. Dean was no virtuoso, but he knew how to play it well enough to get by. The piano was old and had yellow keys, some not working, but the other kids seemed to take interest in it anyway. Before he knew it, everyone was asking, “Can I play next? Can I try?” like a bunch of five-year-olds. Most of them weren't even musically inclined, but he let them have it anyway. He walked away.

Dean saw a house phone.

He had no service and couldn't call anyone on his phone. He was tempted to use the house phone to call Cas just to hear his voice. Cas could talk about anything in the world and it would soothe him. That desire was suddenly overruled by the thought of calling his brother. He would understand. He would say, “You'll be home soon.” He would comfort him from a logical perspective. He would make him laugh. But Dean realized he couldn't depend on anybody for happiness, especially his younger brother. _He_ was the caretaker, not Sam. He shouldn't burden others with his problems like he does.

“Dean? Are you okay?” a boy in his group named Leo asked.

Dean nodded, snapping out of his daze. “Yeah, I'm good.”

He went to bed late that night. Everyone else had fallen asleep, and he was staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. He was left alone with either his fears and his dreams.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

At 7:00 AM the next morning, Dean woke up to the yelling of the geography teacher, who was leading the field trip.

“Rise and shine, children!” she called. She sounded like a maniac, but that’s what made her likable amongst teenagers.

At the breakfast table, some of the kids were talking. Nate, who was in Dean's class, was scrolling through his Instagram. “Ugh, this place has terrible reception,” he complained when Dean sat across from him.

“I know,” Dean said. He snarfed down his food before leaving the table. He was the first to finish.

He took his camera and stepped outside to take pictures of the sunrise. Taking pictures with his camera distracted him from being depressed and homesick. It was cold, but he got some good pictures anyway. Maybe he'd give some of them to Sam. He was into that kind of stuff.

* * *

After breakfast, they went ice skating and snow tubing. They were to be there for four hours before going to a geographical museum and spending the rest of their time learning about the land.

Dean started with snow tubing for two hours. It was thrilling, and for a while, he forgot why he felt sad. A mix of adrenaline and dopamine was running through his system, letting him take a breath of fresh air.

He went with someone named Max on the most intense snow tubing route.

It started by going down an almost ninety-degree angle, then randomly sloping upwards to make the snow tubes temporarily fly, until they were speeding on the ground again, into a tunnel, and then slowing to a halt. They were yelling most of the time, and then they had an exhilarated smile by the end of it.

“Dude, that was awesome,” Dean panted as he climbed out of the snow tube.

“I know!” Max laughed.

They dragged the snow tube back, and Dean decided he wanted to grab a coffee by the ice skating rink. He made some conversation with other kids there. He mostly took lots of pictures of the forest surrounding the snow tubing routes and ice skating rink that day.

After sipping on coffee for half an hour, Dean went to the bathroom. And when he came out, he just stood behind a tree. That's what he felt like doing, but it didn't feel right.

He tried using his phone to call Sam.

No reception.

He tried calling Castiel.

No reception.

Dean’s breath became shallow. He felt like yelling, but he only groaned in exasperation. He blinked back tears. He didn't even know _why_ he was crying, aside from the fact he just wanted to be home. It was stupid. He should at least have some kind of excuse. He looked downhill towards the people on the ice skating rink. They were all happy.

He clenched his fists.

 _That's so unfair,_ Dean thought, _Why can't I be like them?_

Childish. He was childish. He was acting like a baby, crying over not seeing Sam and Cas. He was homesick. It hadn't even been a day yet.

What a dumb reason to actually cry.

Dean stood there and just let tears stream down his face. He didn't really  _cry_ , at least not very hard, his eyes just sort of watered and he let the tears fall. He noticed, in the distance, that all of the other kids were leaving. Leaving to go back to the cabin. Forgetting about him.

He sucked in air.  _Come on, you can do this,_ he told himself.

The geography teacher was taking a group photo. One of the chaperones noticed his eyes were red when he approached the group. She asked if he was okay. He didn't know why that of all things sent him over the edge, but he was biting back tears and furrowing his eyebrows in frustration.

He didn’t want to cry. Not here, not now. Everyone was watching. It was humiliating, to say the least. She hugged him and rubbed his back in circles. “It's okay,” she said.

It sounded convincing, but she wasn't Sam. She wasn't Castiel. She was nothing to him.

The whole ordeal was an embarrassment, to both Dean’s reputation and his emotions. Some kids snickered as they walked past him. The big bad boy had himself a nice little cry, and nobody was going to let it go.

Dean had red eyes in the picture. Some people asked him what was wrong rather than teasing or gossiping, but he just told them to leave him alone. He was fine.

Luckily for Dean, a winter storm was headed right where they were. They had to skip the museum and evacuate the area unless they wanted to be snowed in for an extra week. They packed up that evening and left for home early.

 

_January 27th_

 

_I'm pretty sure I hate everyone now. If I was better and not so goddamn emotional, I wouldn't be an embarrassment._

_I'm getting out of the mountains. I don't wanna be here in this cold, depressing hellhole._

 

An hour later, they reached civilization. Dean checked his phone. He only had notifications of reminders. He pulled up the text conversation between him and Bobby.

_Dean: Hey there's a blizzard so we're heading home early. Can you pick me up at 9:00 at the school?_

He sent the message and texted Sam.

_Dean: Heading home early. Weather's supposed to get bad. Be there at 9:30 or so._

Sam's reply came quickly. It was a quick, affirmative _okay._ Bobby's reply came a few minutes later. 

_Bobby: Yeah I'll be there by 9:15. It's Pinewood High right?_

_Dean: Yeah_

Dean popped in his new earbuds and turned on his music playlist. He leaned against the window and watched the landscape fade from forests and mountains to hills and scattered trees.

 

 * * *

When Bobby picked him up at 9:15 PM, Dean failed to tell him what was wrong. Maybe it was because Dean didn't trust himself to tell him. He didn't think he would've even had the guts to tell him anything. Otherwise, he would ruin everything and make it worse- and that was the last thing he wanted. He would be looked at as a weakling, a mere shell of a man.

Like hell he would even tell anyone at all.

 

* * *

_February 1st_

 

_Love is a verb._

_Tell me you know how to write._

 

February 1st came.

Valentine's Day was approaching fast, and for teenagers, that's either the best or worst thing to ever happen.

Dean and Castiel stayed at Dean's house after school. They followed the usual schedule- eat, talk, homework, and then free time.

After they had finished up everything they had to do, Dean opened up his ancient and boxy laptop. A Valentine’s Day sale ad popped up on the side of Dean’s web browser.

“I hate Valentine's,” Dean complained once he noticed it.

“And somehow  _I’m_  the one who doesn't believe in love,” Cas joked.

“Shut up!” Dean laughed.

“I mean, you're really not doing anything on Valentine's?” Cas asked.

“I mean, I'll probably make cards for my friends, but that's it,” Dean shrugged.

“I thought you had a crush,” Cas interrogated, “since you mentioned it at lunch.”

“Yeah, but  _he_ doesn't like me, so…” Dean sighed. “Don't tease me.”

He was silent for a moment.

“I'll kiss you if you want to,” Castiel blurted.

Dean blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Uh...wait, what?”

“Just, you know, a quick  _mwah_. If you want to,” Cas offered hesitantly and quickly, shoulders tense and voice shaky.

“I...yeah, sure, okay.” Dean widened his eyes in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Cas said.

“Uh...when? ‘Cause, just saying, now seems a little sudden,” Dean said.

“I don't really care,” he shrugged.

“Uh, okay, does...does this weekend work?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “Yeah. Uh...I should probably get home. My mom said dinner’s going to be ready in twenty minutes,” he stated.

“Okay. Uh, yeah, lemme help you get your stuff,” Dean said. He gathered up some of Castiel’s school folders and handed them to him. Once Castiel had everything he needed, they silently walked to the door. Castiel opened it, waved goodbye, and started walking down the street.

It came as a shock to Dean. He wanted to be Castiel's best friend, but for the love of God, he liked him so much. And now he was going to kiss him because  _he_ offered.

Castiel actually wanted to kiss Dean.

 _I'm an ass, and he wants to kiss me,_ Dean thought.  _What the hell?_

Cas was too pure for him, too kind. Maybe it would balance Dean out.

He smiled at the thought. Castiel being all goody-two-shoes, the polar opposite of Dean. He'd be a bad boy with the sweetest boyfriend.

 _Boyfriend_ , Dean scoffed at the very thought,  _there's no way in hell he would want this._

Maybe Cas didn't even want to kiss Dean. Maybe he felt bad for him because he had taken the hint that Dean really didn't want to be alone on Valentine's, or maybe he just knew that Dean wasn't okay and felt obligated to kiss him. Dean accepted the offer anyway, because he wasn't going to mess anything up by telling him how he felt. He wasn’t going to lose him because of how he was starting to realize that maybe he really  _wasn't_ okay.

He called Lisa that night.

“Hellooo?” She answered.

“Hey, Lisa. Uh...Cas is gonna kiss me,” Dean confessed.

Dean heard nothing but silence from the other line.

“Uh, Lisa? You there?” he asked.

“Wait, you're serious?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Dean heard a loud gasp coming from the other end. “Dean! This is his first kiss!”

He chuckled. “I know.”

Lisa squealed excitedly. “You better not mess it up! Make it like one of those really sappy kisses, like in the movies.”

Dean smiled, “Sure, but I have to go easy on him. You know how he is with new stuff.”

“Mmm, yeah, but...It’s you. Don’t you think he’d be more okay to try new things with you?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Dean agreed.

Dean’s inner dialogue consisted of a repeated  _he likes me! He likes me! Can you believe it?_ He smiled and shook his head at the ridiculous notion, but crossed his fingers anyway.

After the call ended with Lisa, he washed up, said goodnight to Sam, and grabbed his notebook. He collapsed onto his bed and turned on the lamp that stood on his nightstand. He dug for a pencil in the drawer, found one, and pulled out his notebook. This time, he didn’t want to write about something sad. He wanted to write about Castiel.

 

_I’ll always listen to any song you sing._

_I’ll always see the beauty in your eyes. I’ll always see the dreams in your head._

_I’ll always smell vanilla and think of you. I’ll always smell a chocolate milkshake and think of sharing it with you. I’ll always smell the distinct scent of home when I hug you._

_I’ll always think about you. I’ll always think about how your presence lifts me up. I’ll always think about how your voice brings me to life. I’ll always think about how looking into your soul is getting a breath of fresh air. I’ll always think about it and I’ll never tell you._

_You’ll just figure it out on your own._

 

He dreamt about kissing Cas. He dreamed that his lips were soft. The kisses started soft and innocent, but gradually became more passionate, and yet so pure; it was like kissing an angel, even.

The dream switched moods suddenly and dramatically. When he opened his eyes after the kiss, Cas was sinking into the ground as if it was quicksand. Dean quickly grasped Castiel’s shoulders and pulled upwards as hard as he could, but Cas only kept sinking. He couldn’t rescue him. He just watched Cas sink into the ground and look up at him with big blue eyes begging for redemption.

Maybe that's what Dean needed- authenticity and passion. He’s known Cas since he was twelve- there was definitely a foundation to make it authentic; something to build off of. Dean hated a lot of people’s guts, but he had so many feelings for Castiel. If Cas really felt the same about Dean, that would automatically add a hint of passion from both sides- no matter how chaste the kiss would be. It would be from pure  _love_. Dean wasn't going to kiss Cas too passionately anyway, not for a first kiss. He wanted to gradually ease him into it- if Cas even wanted to continue after the first kiss. Maybe he was scared he would drown Cas in himself.

* * *

Before Dean knew it, it was already Thursday.

At lunch, he sat by Cas as usual.

“So...this weekend…” Dean trailed off.

“Yes, but you can't tell anyone. My dad would kill me if he found out,” Castiel told him, “But I’m in if you are.”

He nodded. “Got it. I'm telling my brother though. He's trustworthy.”

He looked at Dean in horror. “No, you can’t. My dad's gonna find out if Sam tells  _anyone_. And then what if he...”

Dean shook his head. “No, Cas, I know he won't tell anyone. You know Sam. He barely even knows anyone, damn introvert.”

Cas hesitantly nodded and bit his lip. “Do you promise?” He asked with caution.

“I promise.”

Dean knew he shouldn’t take Castiel as a main source of happiness, but what’s the worst that could happen? Guilt? He deals with that regularly, that’s nothing. Being a burden? Cas would never even know if Dean played it cool. Losing him? The thought stung like a salt on a wound.  _No, I won’t lose him,_ Dean told himself, and immediately dismissed the nerve-wracking thought.

Dean convinced himself that everything would be perfect. It  _had_ to be. Castiel was all he had outside of Sam, and without him, he wouldn’t be okay. Hell, he wasn’t even okay now.

Friday and Saturday dragged on like a heavy backpack. Happiness, at that point, was something Dean had to scrounge for when he wasn’t with Castiel. He was really losing the motivation to do anything and everything, but he held on for Cas. He smiled at the idea of kissing him, and looking into his strikingly blue eyes, and there was no way he was going to let himself lose that.

* * *

_February 11th_

 

_I saw a storm bring new life_

_Over empty meadows_

_As flowers bloomed the sunlight_

_Pierced the clouds_

_and cried for mercy_

_To let the birds sing free._

 

February 11th was a Sunday.

Cas came to Dean's house.

They spent the first half hour in Dean’s room. They silently watched a few videos on YouTube. There noticeable tension on both sides until Dean asked the burning question.

“Are we going to do this?”

Cas nodded. “Now?”

Dean shrugged. “If you want.”

“Can we go down to the creek by the forest? I always wanted to have my first kiss in nature,” Cas suggested.

“Okay,” Dean said. “Yeah, let's go.”

They quickly walked downstairs and put their shoes on.

“We're going to the forest, Sammy!” Dean called.

“Okay!” he called back.

Dean nodded. “Let's go.”

The walk to the creek seemed to take forever. They followed a sidewalk that was distant from other houses, but still were close to the suburban community. The closer they got to the creek, the less houses and more trees there were.

Dean had a tendency to walk faster until Cas caught up. Eventually, they approached the creek.

They walked down the slight incline shielded from the sun by tree leaves and sat right by the freezing water. It was still winter and part of the water was ice. Their hands and toes were already cold, but that was the least of their worries.

“Are you sure about this?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. “Yeah. But...what if something happens?”

Dean chuckled. “Nothing will happen.”

He moved towards Cas, who inhaled sharply and looked up into Dean's eyes. “Wait, are you-”

“Chill, Cas. I'm not doing anything yet,” Dean affirmed.

Their shoulders were touching.

“Are you going to do it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said.

He had kissed a lot of people, but never really had as many nerves like he did now. Maybe he knew that this was impressionable upon Cas- and he couldn’t handle ruining.

“Hurry up, I'm cold,” Cas said.

Dean cupped his cheek and went for it. It happened so quick- his chapped lips on Dean's, an entire universe in a second. It was an explosion inside of their minds, emotions being released and held close. It was so gentle, so perfect.

It didn't last long, though. Their lips parted after a few seconds.

Castiel just stared Dean in the eyes with admiration.

“Did...did you like it?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded, a wide smile taking form on his face. He didn’t even notice that his mouth was slightly open from the shock until he spoke. “Yes, very much.”

The kiss wasn't very sappy. It wasn't the kind of first kiss you see in movies. It was short and sweet because Dean didn't want to push it, but it was the emotion that counted anyway.

“Did I do okay?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you did. Especially for a first-timer.”

Dean stood up and walked back up onto the trail towards his house, Castiel following right behind him.

“Wow. Okay. I actually kissed you. I thought that would never happen,” Cas laughed.

“Well, surprise,” Dean chuckled. He offered his hand to Castiel, who intertwined his fingers between Dean’s. They said nothing on the walk home; they were already filled with happiness and love from the kiss and each other’s presences.

* * *

After Cas left for home, Dean told Lisa. He told her that he kissed Cas. He told her that it was an inexperienced kiss, but it felt amazing.

He smiled like an idiot at the dinner table.

“What's wrong with you?” Sam asked.

“What? Am I not allowed to be happy?” Dean asked.

“I guess you are, but you're never happy, so what happened?”

“Cas...I kissed Cas.”

“Wait, seriously?” Sam looked Dean dead in the eye.

“Uh, yeah, is that bad?” Dean shot Sam a glare.

“No, I just didn't know you were gay,” Sam shrugged.

“Um, I'm pretty sure it's bi, Sammy,” Dean corrected with a hint of sarcasm.

“Fine, you're bisexual. How long have you liked him and not told me?” Sam inquired. “How long did you even know you were bi and not told me?”

“Uh...I’ve liked Cas since...like last October?” Dean guessed. “Bisexuality? Pfff, I don’t know. I mean, usually it’s the ladies that catch my eye but I must say, I’ve seen some guys-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Sam interrupted. “But Dean! I’m your brother, you have to tell me these things!”

Dean dropped his fork. “Um, first of all, you’re not my mom-”

“But you have no parents.”

Dean waved him off. “Yeah, whatever, I’m still talking. And, second of all, I don't have to tell you everything.”

“I'm your brother. Of course you do,” Sam insisted.

“Yeah, okay. Fine, do you want all the gory details? Do you want me to act like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl?”

“I never-”

Sam was cut off by Dean speaking in a high-pitched voice. “His eyes were blue and dreamy, and his lips-”

“Dean!” Sam laughed, “I get it, jeez! Spare me the gory details.”

Dean dreamt of Castiel that night. He had the same dream as before, except Cas didn’t sink into the ground. Instead, he had wings and lifted Dean up into the sky. They flew together above the clouds, in a calm, protected embrace. Dean felt so sure of everything in that dream- like he was standing on the ground and the earth could no longer shake below him.

* * *

Valentine's Day was on a Wednesday.

Castiel made Dean a card and gave him a bag of Milky Ways.

Dean gave him a card with a cliché line and a lolli.

Dean didn't know why, but whenever something good happened he wasn't happy for long. Maybe for a few hours he felt okay like a normal kid, but it would always wear off. And then he’d feel heavy. It wasn't exactly a common sadness because he didn't feel like crying. He was just heavy. He always felt tired, like he didn't want to do anything.

Dean didn't want to talk to anyone by the next Saturday.


	4. Insistence

**Insistence**

 

_February 19th_

 

_I wasn’t one for sad love songs. But now that’s everything stuck in my head._

_Sappy, sad love songs about kissing in the rain and calling out your name. I understand now why people like the sad love songs on the radio._

_I’m so sad but, God help me, I think I’m in love._

 

The week following Valentine's Day felt like an eternity. Every moment with Castiel lasted forever. It was perfect, but all too fast.

On Monday, Dean asked if he could kiss him again.

Cas shrugged. “I don't know. I mean, yeah, but what if…”

It was always a “what if” with Castiel. He was raised in a family that wanted to keep a perfect image. His parents were _normal_ . His activities were _normal_ . His clothes were _normal_. Which, Dean didn't really care, but Cas was afraid of being different. He craved differences, that's why he craved Dean. But his parents rubbed off on him. He was raised to be just another average person in society. Those kinds of “average” people don't do anything with their lives. Cas wanted to be different, he really did; he was just scared. He was scared because that's what his parents taught him to be. That's how they raised their perfect little boy. They expected him to be a little angel.

Yeah, maybe he'd end up as a fallen angel if anything.

He was graceful. He was angelic. He was everything Dean could've asked for and more. The only part he wished Cas would show more of was himself. Without shame or fear of being himself and embracing free will, he was beautiful. But Cas had to hold up that good,  _normal_ reputation for his family. Dean, however, was helping Cas get out of the box his parents put him in. He liked that, and although he likely wouldn't admit it, so did Castiel.

“Dean. Dean, pay attention,” Cas said.

“Sorry. What's up?” Dean asked.

“Does tomorrow work?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, babe,” Dean said mindlessly.

Wait.

_Shit._

“Uh, sorry, I shouldn't call you that-”

“No, Dean,” Cas smiled. “I like that. You can call me whatever you want.”

Dean smirked mischievously. “Oh, really?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Within reason. I know what you're thinking, and no, you can't call me things like _that_.”

“Fine,” Dean sighed dramatically. "But seriously, it's okay if I call you that?"

Cas nodded. “But...please be careful what you say around people. I really don't want my dad to know,” he said, “because if he knows, I swear to you he will end everything. And I mean _everything_.”

“Got it,” Dean nodded with a serious expression before a smirk crept onto his face, “...babe.”

* * *

It was five in the afternoon. The air itself seemed dark and heavy with emptiness. Dean needed to be filled with something- anything. He missed the warm, soupy feeling he'd get in his chest when Castiel smiled at him. Now, he felt cold and hollow.

 _This happens every day,_ he thought;  _this can't be normal._  

 

The low feeling that plagued him could only be diluted by thoughts of Castiel. He was the addiction, he was the drug that Dean couldn't stop using. He was the happy pill Dean couldn't stop taking. He knew he shouldn't rely on Castiel to be happy, but he didn't know what else to do. What else  _could_ he do? He had to protect Sam from life and put him first. Castiel came second. If he took the time out for himself, it would distract him. He wouldn't risk anything if it meant consequences they could be negatively impacted by. To substitute for anything that could have brought him contentment, Dean reminisced over the gentle kiss Castiel shared with him the Sunday before Valentine's Day. Then, he thought about seeing him tomorrow. At least he had something to look forward to.

Dean wrote in his notebook, but that only made the feeling temporarily go away.

 

_Blue skies above; rain and thunder_

_Flowers blossom; the earth crumbles_

_Leaves fall in silence_

_Cold wind leaving; bare and naked_

_Even inside, it's still raining_

_This time from my eyes._

 

He wrote until there was nothing left to write. He wrote until he felt completely hollow, rather than filled with a heaviness he couldn't find the source of. He imagined, that in 24 hours, he would be filled with happiness. He would be with Cas.

He shamed himself for depending on Castiel like that, but he _needed_ him. Otherwise, it would get worse. If he plays it lowkey, Cas will never find out. In no time, he'll get better. He just needed to temporarily take Cas as his main source of joy until he felt good, and then everyone would be happy.

Dean called Cas later on that night. He was hesitant but wanted to hear his voice.

“Hello?” Cas greeted.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said.

“Oh. Hello, darling,” Castiel smiled into the phone, but of course, Dean couldn't see him.

“ _Darling._ You sound like an old person,” Dean mocked playfully.

“What, you can call me whatever you want and I can't?” Cas huffed. “That's unfair.”

“I'm kidding,” Dean told him.

 _Darling_. Dean could get used to that. He smiled at the thought of Castiel calling him that everywhere he went. He used to think it was a gross word, but now it's all he wants to hear.

“Well, you must have called me for something,” Castiel chuckled. “So, what is it?”

“Do you actually like me?” Dean blurted out.

“Yes, I do,” Castiel replied with sincerity. “I like you, Dean.”

You could almost _hear_ a smile in his voice.

There was silence on both ends for a few seconds.

“How long?” Dean inquired.

“Hmm…” Cas paused and traced back his memories. He sighed. “I realized it on New Year's.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, that's specific. Why New Year's?”

“I realized it then because I wanted to kiss you into the New Year,” Cas explained, “and I wanted to make resolutions with you.”

Dean smiled as Castiel told him that. “You’re such a sap,” he teased.

He had liked Castiel since October. He assumed Cas had other plans in mind, so he never made a move. He realized that this wasn't something Cas randomly decided on a whim. He wanted to kiss Dean into the New Year and had time to contemplate his feelings after that. But he could still change his mind at any given time. Dean silenced the thought before it could develop into anxiety.

They talked a bit more about school and general life before calling it a day.

Before he went to sleep, Dean imagined holding Cas’ hand when they walked home from school together. He imagined taking Cas out to the plains and stargazing while laying on top of the Impala. He realized he was getting in over his head, but he kept thinking about what he wanted to do with him anyway. Maybe Cas was laying in his bed, smiling to himself and thinking about the same thing Dean was.

* * *

_February 27th_

 

_Bathe me in sunlight because I’m too dark._

_Feed me love because I’m starving._

_Sing me a song because I’m an unheard voice._

 

Dean came home with Castiel by his side. His father was gone like he usually was, and Sam left a note saying he would be spending the night at a friend's house.

“We've got the house all to ourselves, Cas,” Dean winked.

Castiel playfully pushed Dean away before sitting on the couch. “No, Dean,” Castiel declared, "You know the deal. My parents said I have to wait 'til marriage or I'm going to Hell, apparently."

“I'm kidding, but don't you be talking back to me, mister,” Dean teased. “I'm dragging you along with me to fulfill my biological need to eat chips and beans.” He placed a few kisses on his left cheek.

Castiel laughed to himself. "I think you mean  _biological,_ " he corrected.

Dean shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I said, don't you be fancy-talking me. That means all your sciencey...stuff."

“Okay, then you can fulfill my biological need to eat, too, then,” Cas stated.

Dean walked to the fridge and Cas followed behind him.

“Welcome back to the fridge, my favorite part of the house,” Dean announced, opening the half-empty fridge and grabbing leftovers. "Alright, what food am I gonna treat you to today?"

Cas noticed the amount of space in the fridge. There wasn't a lot of food for Dean and Sam to share, and he didn't want to be added into the mix. “I'm okay with just a snack,” he shrugged. "By the way, Dean, if you ever want any pie or whatever it is you like, I can always lend you some."

"No, we're good. You keep your rich people food," Dean joked as he handed him an unopened fruit and yogurt cup. “Sammy loves these things,” he said, “so don't tell him you had one.”

Castiel chuckled and took the yogurt cup. “Okay, I won't. Thank you.”

Dean closed the fridge and heated some beans in a tupperware container.

“Dean,” Cas began, “I want to ask you about something.”

Dean leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “Okay. Shoot,” he replied.

"Has everything been...okay?" Cas bit his lip and cast his eyes down to his feet.

"I- yeah. Why?" Dean asked in return.

Castiel couldn't help but notice the hesitation in his voice, but he didn't want to rock the boat. “You're just more uptight than you normally are,” he shrugged, trying to contain his neutrality. “It's not me, is it? If any of this is stressing you out-”

“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted. “I might have a lot of problems, but you're not one of them.”

Cas crossed his arms and thought for a moment, staring into the kitchen floor. He glanced back at Dean. “Then what is?”

“Nothing,” Dean shook his head. The microwave beeped, signifying that the beans were heated up. He opened it, grabbed the tupperware, and set it on the table. He walked to the pantry, grabbed a bag of tortilla chips, and set it by the beans.

He sat down, eyeing Cas, who was still in the kitchen. “Cas, you know you can eat over here,” Dean suggested.

Castiel grabbed a spoon from a disorganized drawer and pulled out the seat across from Dean. He sat down and opened his yogurt cup. Cas dipped his spoon into his fruit and yogurt cup and stuck it in his mouth, all while quietly observing Dean.

He heard the quiet crunching of Dean's tortilla chips. It was completely silent between them.

“Did you lose your voice?” Castiel asked.

Dean shook his head and swallowed his tortilla chips and beans. “No, just tired.”

“But we've finished mid-year exams, Dean,” Castiel persuaded. “There's something off about you.”

“I'm fine,” Dean insisted in an annoyed tone.

Castiel sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, but if you need anything, darling, let me know.”

Dean smiled like an idiot at the name. “I’m good, Cas.”

But Castiel _knew_ in his gut that something was off. Something was wrong, but what could he do? Dean didn't want to talk about it. Cas knew he couldn't help Dean unless he wanted to help himself.

Dean put away the half-eaten bag of tortilla chips and threw the empty tupperware in the sink. Castiel looked up at him once he started walking back towards Cas. He leaned down and planted a small kiss on Castiel's cheek.

“There’s a song I want you to listen to,” Castiel murmured against, resting forehead against Dean's abdomen.

“Okay. Let's move from the dinner table,” Dean recommended, “because these chairs are old and friggin’ uncomfortable.”

Castiel chuckled. “And where do you propose we go?”

Dean sucked in a long breath, hand resting around Castiel's shoulder. He noticed the tense muscle of Cas' shoulder, in contrast with his relaxed ones. “I don't care,” he decided.

“Your room, then,” Castiel proclaimed.

Dean nodded and tugged on Castiel's hand as he walked the opposite direction of the table. Castiel stood up and followed Dean up the stairs to his room.

He had been there a million times before, but this time he was genuinely excited. He wanted Dean's affection. He craved it. He knew that this time he'd kiss him, and every place they hadn't kissed was new territory again.

Dean left the door half-open and fell back onto the bed. “God, I'm tired,” he claimed.

Castiel plopped down right beside him. He was laying on his side while Dean was laying on his back. That gave him an advantage. He set his hand down at the top of Dean's chest and the other to prop his own head up.

“You gonna take three years?” Dean teased.

“No,” Cas said. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Dean. The touch was very soft and gentle, but Dean’s lips had a hint of need.

Dean temporarily broke the connection to turn onto his side and face Castiel. He kissed him again, hand resting on his cheek. It wasn't a very long kiss, but it had emotion past the touch.

Dean's favorite thing about kissing Castiel was that it was so sweet and loving. He was the entirety of Heaven personified. Dean adored the way Castiel would sometimes laugh into a kiss. He loved everything about Castiel- his blue eyes in contrast with dark hair, his smile, his mannerisms, and the way his lips completed him.

“Dean, you're staring,” Castiel stated.

“Sorry,” Dean said. He blinked and looked away, while muttering, "Jeez, you could shock someone with eyes that blue."

Castiel nodded. “Yes, I know. Some girls at school really seem to like them, but you know I don't primarily like girls.”

“You like _me_ ,” Dean said proudly.

“Mhm.” Castiel nodded and gave Dean a quick kiss. “Anyway, I meant to show you a song.”

“I don’t know why I like such a sap,” Dean laughed.

Castiel playfully nudged Dean. He got his phone out of his pocket, untangled his earbuds, and searched for a song. "It's called Europe's Skies by...Alexander something. I heard it on a playlist and I thought of you," he explained. He handed Dean the earbuds before pressing play.

Dean heard a violin- and then a harmonizing violin accompanied with light percussion. Then a male voice began to sing:

 

 _Now I'm home, but I cannot stay_  
_I dream of you every day_  
_Got to know every inch of you_ _  
_ Will you make my dream come true?

 

Dean smiled as he listened to the song.

 

_There's no place like home, they say_

_You're my home so hear me pray_

 

He looked into Cas’ eyes and raised his eyebrows, signifying he thought of him when he heard the line _you're my home so hear me pray._ Castiel chuckled and looked at Dean's enjoyment in admiration.  _Dean couldn't be better_ , Castiel tried to convince himself. Dean's worry disappeared without a trace when he was with Cas. He was on top of the world. So was Castiel- except he never felt low and worried without being around each other like Dean did.  So maybe Dean _was_ okay. He didn't feel depressed in that perfect moment. He was okay, he just needed to be around Cas and think about him as much as possible. He would be okay.

 

***

_March 1st_

 

_I dream._

_I dream of oceans._

_I dream of trying to stay afloat._

_I dream of the sea swallowing me whole._

_I dream of gasping for air until I feel arms around my shoulders._

_I dream of being pulled up to the surface._

_I dream of you letting me breathe._

_I dream of a better ocean._

_I dream._

 

Although it still snowed regularly, spring was right around the corner. Flowers were beginning to bloom, bees were beginning to buzz around again, and the farmer's market was soon to start up. Dean hated the spring, but it was Castiel's favorite season, so he pretended to enjoy it. 

Dean stared out the window from his room on a Thursday afternoon. Some snow behind buildings was left untouched while most of it was melted by the sun. By the sides of the road, it had turned to ice.

 _Damn Colorado weather,_ he thought. He yearned for rain, snow, and darkness- not some hippy-happy sunshine reflecting off the melting snow and blinding everyone.

He glanced down at his phone, checking it for texts and notifications.

Nothing.

He relocated from his room to the living room where Sam was watching TV on the couch.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean greeted.

Sam turned around. “Oh, hi, Dean.”

“You, uh...aren't reading or doing homework. Everything okay?” Dean contemplated.

Sam scoffed. “You know that's not all I do, right?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems like it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and looked back at the TV. The narrator began to talk about something inaudibly as Dean walked to the kitchen.

He was eyeing the few foods in the pantry up and down when realized he wasn't hungry, even though the mid-afternoon was a time where he had at least a snack.

He walked back to the couch and sat down to join Sam instead.

“Where's the food?” Sam asked.

“Not hungry,” Dean replied.

“Dean Winchester, not hungry? A once in a lifetime experience,” Sam stated in a narrator's voice.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

His phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket and turned it on.

The notification said  _Dad: Popping in for a few days. Anything you boys need from the grocery store?_

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. It had been half a year since he'd seen his dad. Sam didn't consider him an available parent, but Dean still thought of him as  _Dad_  nonetheless. He unlocked his phone and texted back,  _Yeah we could use some more eczema cream for Sam. thanks._

A few minutes later, he received a text back saying,  _Dad: Be there tomorrow. See you then._

“Dad’s getting you your skin cream or whatever,” Dean told Sam.

“Wait, he's coming home?” Sam questioned with a surprised tone.

“Yeah, for a few days,” Dean sighed.

“This place needs to be cleaned up,” Sam worried.

“Uh, dude, there's like two shoes on the floor. We'll be fine,” Dean insisted.

Sam scowled. “It has to be presentable,” he claimed, "you know how Dad gets when things..." Sam trailed off. "I want it to look okay, at least."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You say he's not your dad and you're mad at him and yet you act like Marie Kondo whenever he's coming home."

Sam huffed and didn't respond. Dean averted his attention to his phone, which he unlocked to text Castiel.

_Dean: Hey, I don't think you should come over tomorrow. Dad's coming home._

He closed his phone and set it down by his side. A few minutes later, he heard a vibration.

_Cas: Can I meet him? I think he'd want to know about your boyfriend. and he’s gone a lot so he wouldn’t tell my parents right?_

Dean read the text, which was quickly followed by another.

_Cas: that is the right term you want me to use, right? I mean we aren't really official so I'm not sure._

Dean chuckled and typed a reply.

_Dean: no I’m cool with it if you are._

Dean smiled. That must mean they’re actually official. It felt right and natural to him. He still didn't tell anyone that could pass the news to Castiel's father, though.

_Dean: but I'm gonna see if my dad's okay with gay people and take it from there, i guess._

_Cas: okay. Well, keep me updated._

Dean turned off his phone and slid it into his pocket. He was slightly worried about his dad, but what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

The next morning Dean woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and something sweet. His stomach grumbled as soon as he opened his eyes.  _I didn't know Sammy could cook,_ Dean thought. Except, Sammy couldn't cook. That meant only one thing.

Dad was home.

Dean bolted upright and out of bed. He scrambled downstairs and peered around the corner.

There he was- John Winchester, standing in the kitchen making breakfast.

Sitting at the table was Sam, who shot Dean a warning look. Dean glanced back at him questioningly before Sam beckoned him to come over. Dean walked over to Sam. “What?”

“He's snappy this time,” Sam whispered, “because apparently there's some trouble or something with a police department down in Oklahoma.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “So?” he murmured.

Sam glanced at John then back at Dean. “I'm just saying. Don't tell him anything that will make him mad.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay.”

He shuffled over to the kitchen. “Hey, Dad,” Dean greeted.

John looked up from the French toast he was arranging. “Dean,” he nodded, eyeing him up and down. “You've grown, son.”

Dean chuckled. “Not as much as Sam. I swear, that kid's gonna grow to be seven feet tall.”

John smiled. “I know.”

Dean didn't say anything else for a few seconds.

“Well, how’s school? You getting good grades?” John asked.

Dean shrugged. “Sammy's got all A's, but me...could be better, I guess.”

John nodded. “Hmm.”

Dean looked at the food his father was cooking. “Uh...Do you need any help or anything?” he asked.

“No,” John replied.

Dean nodded. “I'll be at the table then.”

“Oh, Sam's eczema cream is in the Walmart bag on the couch,” John stated.

“Thanks, Dad,” Dean said. He walked to the couch and located the bag. He stuck his hand in and grabbed the cream.

“Think fast, Sammy,” Dean told Sam before throwing him the cream.

“Thanks,” Sam said, “I need this- my arms have been on fire all night.” He opened the bottle and smeared the cream all over his arms.

Dean pulled out a chair and sat down, shortly followed by his father setting down a platter for each of the boys consisting of an egg sandwich, bacon, and French toast. John sat down and took a bite of bacon. Sam and Dean had no idea what to talk about- they didn't want to tick their father off by asking what happened in Oklahoma.

After John finished a piece of bacon, he asked, “So...you guys hang out with friends? A girl, maybe?”

Dean shot Sam a nervous glance. Sam looked at him and gave a small nod.

“I mean, there's a girl I like, but she probably doesn't like me,” Sam shrugged.

“You should talk to her. You never know,” John advised.

“Okay,” Sam agreed, though he probably wouldn't make a move anyway.

“What about you, Dean?” John inquired, turning his head towards him.

“Uh, I mean, I don't know,” Dean shrugged, his face tinting red. He looked down at his plate and awkwardly took another bite of French toast.

His father seemed to notice how he appeared to be hiding something. “Dean, who is she?” His father asked.

“Um...It-it's a he, Dad…” Dean sighed and his face was painted a vibrant red.

John furrowed his eyebrows, creating what appeared to be a half-confused and half-disgusted expression, and set his half-eaten sandwich down in silence. Sam awkwardly looked to the side, lips pursed in a straight line.

“Well…” John began, “I guess it's your choice.”

Dean nodded, still not making any eye contact and staring at his plate.

“Uh…Dad, I got first place in the spelling bee,” Sam stated in an uncertain tone.

“Good job,” John congratulated, “I'm proud of you.”

Dean had nothing to tell his father that would elicit a congratulation. He had nothing to make him proud; no honor roll certificate, no medal.

He fought the urge to cry. He didn't want to look like a weakling in front of his father over breakfast when it was the first time seeing him in what felt like forever.

John and Sam continued the small talk and Dean waited until they finished breakfast to leave for his room.

He texted Cas immediately.

_Dean: I don't think you should meet my dad. he didn't seem too happy about me and another guy so…_

He set his phone down on his nightstand and got out his notebook and pencil before writing.

 

_March 2_

 

_Love bears a weight on my shoulders. It keeps me alive and lifts me up, yet somehow I'm still earthbound._

_I want someone to look at me and say, “You've done good. I'm proud.” I want someone to love me unconditionally. I want someone who will be my stone while the ocean pulls in sand. I want someone to hold onto that I know I won't lose._

_Or maybe I'm the weight on my shoulders. Maybe it's me- Maybe I'm the problem._

_After all, I am the common denominator._

 

Dean put the pencil in between that page and the next to bookmark it. He closed his notebook and set it on his nightstand next to his phone.

He unlocked it and viewed the text Castiel sent in response.

_Cas: i'm sorry, Dean. My family is like that too. But it doesn't matter because we have each other, right?_

Dean felt better instantly until a terrifying idea came into his head.

What if Castiel leaves?

Sure, they could be inseparable, but anything could happen. He could screw everything he's ever known up in an instant. He was already walking on a thin line.

Dean's breaths became shorter and faster as his heart sped up and his mind swam. He texted Cas back anyway.

_Dean: Right._

* * *

"Dean?" John called out the next day from downstairs.

"Yeah, Dad?" Dean responded back from his room.

"Get down here," he demanded, noticeably slurring his words.

Dean threw his head back and sighed.  _Ugh, it's one of those nights,_  he thought. John was mediocre when he was sober, but he wasn't sober too often when he was home. When he was drunk, he was feared. And the next day he wouldn't remember the half of it.

Dean walked at a slow pace down the small upstairs hallway. Sam's room door was closed. He tried turning the knob, but it was locked. "Sam?" Dean muttered, voice hushed and urgent. A few seconds later he heard the click of the lock and the door opened.

Sam peered through the barely open door, eyes darting from side to side. He realized it was just Dean. "What?"

"Did he hurt you?" Dean asked, observing Sam's angry demeanor.

"No, I ran off," Sam stated, "because he's drunk as hell right now."

Dean sighed. "Okay. Uh, we can go to Cas' house."

Sam nodded quickly. "Yeah, anywhere but here," he chuckled dryly.

"Dean! Get down here!" John hollered, followed by the heavy thump of a boot on stairs.

Sam yanked Dean into his room and instantly shut the door. He fumbled with the lock, hands shaking. "Call Cas or something. Please," he begged.

Dean groaned. "Dammit, I left it in my room."

"Is the lock still broken?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean responded. He bit his lip and looked down at his feet, trying to come up with a solution.

"What do we do?" Sam worried.

"I'm gonna grab my phone and go downstairs first. I'm gonna distract Dad, and you're gonna run like hell down to the stop sign and wait for me there," Dean explained. "But whatever you do, don't leave the stop sign."

Sam nodded, face presenting fear. "Try not to get hurt."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, you too."

Sam sucked in a shaky breath. "Alright, go," he affirmed.

Dean swung open the door and raced to his room, Sam following. Somewhere among John's yelling, they heard the breaking of a glass bottle, then a string of curse words. Dean tried to push that out of his mind and frantically searched for his phone. He found it on the nightstand and shoved it into his pocket. They ran to the top of the stairs, seeing John halfway up, blocking the exit.

"Oh, we're screwed," Sam muttered.

"Remember the plan," Dean instructed Sam. He ran down the stairs to come face-to-face with his father. He was terrified, but swallowed it down and showed no signs of submission.

"Dean, my first son." A twisted smile crept onto John's face before it faded. "You were so good, and now you're a little punk," he spat. He held up a fist, and Dean immediately put his arms over his head. John evidently missed or was only trying to scare him, since the punch landed in the wall. Dean let his arms down and gave the strongest push he could muster. The adrenaline rush he was experiencing gave him extra strength, causing John to stumble and fall backwards.

"Go!" Dean yelled. Sam sped down the stairs and outside, as Dean looked down at his drunken father who was struggling to stand back up. Before he could even think, his legs were running and he was outside. The cold night air hit his face like needles. Sam was already halfway to the stop sign, and Dean was only catching up.

Once they had finally made it to the stop sign, they were sweating and panting. They saw the distant silhouette of their father outside, walking with a crooked gait, shouting nonsense with their names.

"I'm gonna...call Cas," Dean stated in between pants.

"Yeah," Sam responded.

Dean fished the phone from his pocket and dialed Cas' number in. It rang out until there was an audible voice.

"Hello, darling," came the default response.

"Cas! Hey, um...Me and Sammy need to go spend the night at your house," Dean said.

"Uh...Why? Are you okay? Is Sam there? Is he okay?" Castiel asked, concern in his voice.

"Just...Dad. He got drunk and got a little carried away," Dean explained.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Uh, yeah...I think I might have to sneak you in. It's...9:43 right now. My parents should be asleep by ten or eleven. Go to the coffee shop or something for now," Castiel instructed.

Dean widened his eyes in surprise. Castiel? Sneaking things in and out of the house, let alone a boyfriend? Surprising. "Yeah, glad you're finally coming around," he chuckled.

"What do you mean?" Cas asked.

"Just, with your parents and...nevermind. Call me when the coast is clear," Dean said.

"Okay. I'll see you then. Stay safe, okay?" Cas ordered, sounding like a protective mother.

"Yeah, babe. Bye."

"Bye."

Dean hung up the phone. "That Starbucks right outside of Cas' neighborhood is our next destination," he told Sam.

"Isn't that like half an hour away?" Sam questioned.

"No, it's a fifteen-minute walk," Dean claimed, "but it's freezing cold so that doesn't matter."

"Let's go," Sam said.

* * *

By 11:15 Sam and Dean were climbing through Castiel's window. Dean insisted that Sam go up first, and Castiel helped pull them both up and into his room. As soon as Dean made it in, he grabbed his collar and planted a kiss on his lips. "I'm so glad you're okay," He beamed, voice hushed.

"Ew," Sam murmured.

Cas turned around. "Sam, are you okay too?" He eyed Sam up and down, noticing nothing but messy hair and the bottom of his bootcut jeans ripped up.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam assured. "I'm really tired, though."

"Sleep. I set up a ton of pillows in the closet, or you can take the bed," Cas offered.

"I'll take the closet," Sam said. He took off his shoes and headed to the closet. "Night," he quietly called out before shutting the closet door.

"Night, Sammy," Dean responded with the same level of noise. He yanked off his boots and plopped down onto Cas' bed. Castiel joined him after he turned off the lights, laying just beside him and pulling up a blanket.

"My parents leave for work early tomorrow morning. They work in Denver, too. You and Sam can sleep in," Cas said.

"Thank God," Dean chuckled and wrapped an arm around Cas' waist.

Cas shuffled around in his blanket and adjusted it. "I'm kind of scared, though, because I don't want to get in trouble or anything."

"You won't if your parents are gone," Dean shrugged.

"I just wish they weren't so close-minded. You've got all the freedom you could ask for, and I live in a religious prison." Castiel's eyes fluttered shut. "But I'm gonna keep you anyway."

Dean smiled. "Yeah. That's good."

"I'm tired. Good night."

"Good night."

Dean watched over Castiel for awhile as he slept. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, his features became more visible. He admired each one. This was okay. Just an hour and a half before, he was scared and on the verge of a panic attack. But he was with Cas now, that's all that mattered. He was home. A dark sort of feeling crept into his mind, but he luckily drifted off to sleep easily before it could manifest itself as anything more.

This was okay.


	5. He Bleeds (Home)

**He Bleeds (Home)**

 

_March 14th_

 

_He bleeds light._

_He bleeds home._

_He breathes love._

_He breathes heaven._

_He is the entire universe._

_I'm nothing but a dying star._

 

It was a Wednesday afternoon.

John had left again and Sam was at his friend’s house. Dean was alone laying on his bed as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't even think, he just felt things. He felt heavy, he felt guilty, and he felt worthless.

His room door suddenly swung open. “Dean,” Cas called, “you didn't text back so I came to check on you.”

Dean glanced at Castiel. “That's nice, but I'm good,” Dean proclaimed.

“Where have you been? Did you ditch school?” Cas asked, setting down his backpack and laying next to Dean.

Dean didn't respond. He broke the eye contact with Castiel and sighed.

“Dean?” Cas nudged.

“I'm fine, Cas, I'm just really tired,” Dean admitted. It was only half true.

“You need to take care of yourself,” Cas scolded.

Dean turned his head towards Cas.

“Why do you care?” Dean asked.

Castiel went silent. For a moment, he stared just past Dean's shoulder and licked his top lip, which was something he often did when he was thinking.

“I just…” Castiel trailed off. He took Dean’s hand and looked him in the eye. “I care about you. I know you think I don’t, or maybe you just generally feel unloved, but Dean, please open your heart.”

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand assuringly. “Cas, today is just a bad day, okay? I’m fine. You don’t need to be worrying about me.”

“Did you not hear me?” Castiel asked. “I’m always going to worry about you, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, I guess,” he shrugged.

Castiel smiled. “Now, come on. There’s a cool little spot I found in the forest I want to show you.” He pushed himself up and out of the bed and gently tugged on Dean’s hand.

Dean got out of his bed and grabbed a jacket from his closet. He slid it on and let Cas guide him to where they were going. He was led downstairs, out the door, and across the street.

The Winchester house was a small, slightly run-down house located on the edge of town, so the forests were only a fifteen-minute walk away. Castiel knew the way to the forest- he’d gone there a million times. At first, they followed a popular trail people would jog or walk their dogs on until Castiel turned left and headed into the forest. There were trail markers to wherever he was going, and Dean assumed Cas left them there. After a few minutes of walking deeper into the forest, a tiny makeshift cottage under the shadows of the trees came into view. As they approached it, Dean could see an old wooden sign that said _The Clubhouse_. Castiel stopped in front of the door.

“Well, here we are,” he said.

Dean eyed the place in every direction. It was secluded and seemed untouched for years. Vines climbed up the house from every angle and weeds grew from cracks in the run-down porch. An old cracked cup rested on the windowsill.

“Wow, you really found something cool,” Dean gushed.

“That’s not all,” Castiel explained.

“Yeah? What else?” Dean inquired.

Castiel twisted the knob and pushed the door. It creaked open, showing a room full of antique furniture, one of which was a broken turntable. Everything had a layer of dust coating it, causing Dean to sneeze when he stepped in.

“Should've brought a mask,” Dean stated, wiping his red nose.

“Well, if we dust the place, maybe you won't need one,” Castiel suggested.

Dean approached the kitchen. There was a small, open cabinet with an old duster and a broom next to it.

“There's this if you're that into cleaning," Dean teased.

"Well, I came here to show you something else, not a duster," Castiel laughed.

"Yeah?"

"Follow me," Cas ordered, as he walked into a hallway. A few cobwebs hung from the ceiling and the wooden floor creaked with every step. He then turned left into what appeared to be the remains of a bedroom. He approached a small dresser and pulled out one of the drawers. There were many miscellaneous items, but Cas knew exactly what he was looking for. He pulled out a pocket-sized jewelry box. He opened it and pulled out two rings, one gold, and one silver. They were simple, but the gold one had an engraving reading  _I love you_ and the silver one with  _to the moon and back_. Cas handed the gold one to Dean.

"Wow, Cas, thanks," Dean said in a surprised tone. He slipped the ring on his finger. It was slightly small but comfortable.

Cas slid his on and looked up into Dean's eyes. "Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean averted his eyes from the ring to Cas.

"I love you," he confessed.

There was a short pause in between them as Dean wrapped one of his arms around Castiel. "Yeah, I love you too."

Dean was never one to verbally say how he felt. His language of love was through touch and humor. But this felt natural, like the words just rolled off his tongue. It was relatively strange since the words weren't completely familiar, but he loved the smile Cas gave him.

"I always loved you as a friend, but it's grown to a different kind of love," Cas explained.

Wait, if he loved the feeling, why was his heart beating so fast? Dean took a deep breath and blamed it on nerves.

"And I think that I knew I loved you after that first kiss. It feels like I'm exactly where I need to be," Cas continued.

Something was off. It wasn't Cas. Cas was supposed to make him happy, he was supposed to be Dean's rock- as he had been all these years. But there was a rising feeling that disconnected Dean and threw him off.

"Dean? Dean?" Cas asked. "Dean, breathe."

He didn't even realize how catatonic he became. He left his mind on autopilot, and now he was panicking. Perfect timing, since the person he loves more than almost anyone just confessed their love. He didn't even know why, but his breath became short, fast, and unnatural. The tips of his fingers started to become numb from the lack of oxygen.

"I can't breathe," Dean panted.

Cas guided him to the old bed. "Sit down. Take a breath."

Dean groaned in frustration. "I can't...breathe," he repeated, breath becoming shorter and faster by the second. The numbness traveled up to his wrist, only aggravating him more.

"Dean! Please, breathe in for five seconds, okay?" Cas begged.

Dean inhaled for five seconds and exhaled for another. Getting his breath back on track was difficult. "My hands," he sighed, "I can't feel my hands."

"Keep breathing, darling," Cas soothed. He rubbed his hand in circles on Dean's back.

Dean closed his eyes. Gradually, the feeling came back in his hands. A thin layer of sweat coated his skin. As he came back to reality, he realized how much of a mess he was.

"Cas, you have to go," Dean stated. He didn't mean that at all, and he wanted to fight it, but nothing else could come out of his mouth. But at the same time, he was a wreck. He didn't want Cas to see him in the mental state he was in.

Castiel's expression faded to disappointed and guilty. His eyes that used to seem vibrant, like an ocean you'd see on vacation, were now glassy and hurt. "I'm sorry if I did anything to upset you, Dean."

"No, you didn't, I..." Dean trailed off, he couldn't find the right words.

"I'm at least walking home with you," Cas stated, "if that's okay with you."

"Yeah," Dean responded.

* * *

The walk home was silent. Castiel seemed scared- not of Dean, but of his emotions and what they would do to Dean. It was awkward, too. Normally they would joke around, talk, or at least hold each other's hand. But Castiel was fighting the urge to cry and Dean noticed his slightly bloodshot eyes. He was already beating himself up over it and now he made Cas cry. Great.

Cas grabbed his backpack and walked out to the sidewalk. They waved goodbye and Dean went back inside.

Dean hated himself for everything he did. It kept him up. He didn't care if it was two in the morning and he had school the next day. He could just skip one more day and he'd go to school on Friday. But for now, he hated himself. And he wrote about it in his notebook. He wrote it fast, the handwriting messy and scattered across the lines. He wrote it with clenched teeth and tense shoulders, with the thoughts in his head targeting him, saying  _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you._

 

_March 15th_

 

_You're probably asleep because it's two in the morning. I'm awake. Wide awake. I hate myself. I break everything I touch. And look, I'm not surprised. I messed you up because I love you. I don't say it and I don't show it in nice ways. I'm a disappointment._

_I don't wanna hurt you. But this, whatever this is, is only getting worse. I've realized that. And I don't know what to do. You were the solution, but now I think this has grown bigger than you and me._

_And maybe I deserve a punishment rather than redemption. I don't deserve you. I haven't done anything to deserve you. But if I lose you, what would happen? Would I survive?_

_Would I die?_

_And I wonder what would happen if I died, how many people would care. Dad wouldn't even know, let alone care. Yeah, maybe Sammy. Maybe you, even though you probably think I'm an overemotional jerk. But I wonder if people really do care._

_I know you're emotional. I'm so selfish. Maybe I should think of you and not me for once. Generosity is obviously something I never learned. I really hope things don't get ugly after this._

_I love you._

_Don't ever leave._

His mind threatened to panic again. This time, he didn't panic.

He just let the same heavy feeling he had been feeling fill him up again.

 ***

_March 16th_

 

_I’m just another drop in the sea_

_I’m just another face on the street_

_And who I am I really?_

_And what do I matter?_

_7.5 billion people._

_I’m just another face on the street_

_I’m just another drop in the sea._

 

It had been two days since Dean’s breakdown. They attempted to treat their relationship as they did before, but they were both quieter. Castiel was always on edge and tense, and Dean was too tired to talk. It was like a heaviness was standing over them both.

There was a lot he wanted to talk about- the breakdown, how Castiel was, how Dean was sorry, and everything else that clouded his mind. He wanted to spill his guts out, but he didn’t even know what was in them.

During lunch, Dean had nothing to eat. He could’ve gone to the cafeteria and gotten some food, given he had free and reduced lunch, but he wasn’t hungry. Or maybe he was hungry, but he didn’t want to eat.

“Do you want my pretzels?” Cas asked.

“No,” Dean claimed, the ghost of a smile plastered on his face, “I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten lunch since Tuesday,” Cas argued.

“I don’t want to eat. I’m fine,” Dean insisted.

Cas sighed and finished his lunch, shortly before being dismissed to class. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Tomorrow?” Dean questioned. He never remembered scheduling that, but if it meant things getting back to normal, he was all for it.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas stated. He glanced around nervously at the sea of kids in the hallways and by the lunch tables before placing a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek.

“Okay, yeah, tomorrow. See you,” Dean said after a few seconds. Cas walked off to class.

That was new. Castiel was utterly  _terrified_ of people finding out about their relationship, but he just kissed him on the cheek. That’s definitely not something friends do and anyone could’ve seen them. Maybe he was finally coming around. Had it been a month or two ago, Dean would’ve had the biggest, dorkiest smile on his face and would keep it in his thoughts all day. Now it just seemed like a wisp of joy that he questioned and thought too much about.

Seventh period was language arts for Dean. He pretended to read his book for the first ten minutes before the teacher started giving instructions to the class.

“Okay, homework gets turned in there. This is all your final grade for the quarter,” she announced.

Oh, right. Spring break started the next day. Dean completely forgot.

Oh yeah.  _Homework._ He didn’t even realize that he had any up until now, let alone that it was due right then. He silently facepalmed.  _My God,_ he thought,  _you half-ass everything, don’t you?_

Everyone stood up from their desks, paper in hand, and walked to the turn-in basket except for Dean. He sat, jaw tensed and face angry, staring at the corner of his desk. He didn’t just feel embarrassed, he felt ashamed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it and turn it in, so what was the point?

He gripped his pencil before contemplating what to do. Pretend to have a very intense migraine? No, that’s too much of a big deal. Maybe just pull the “I have to use the restroom” card and not return? Sure. That sounds great. What’s the worst that could happen? After all, there was only half an hour of school left.

He asked the teacher if he could go to the bathroom. She reluctantly said he could. The bathroom was just down the hall, so it took only a minute to get there and lock himself inside of a stall. He sighed.  _It comes to this,_ he thought,  _being in the bathroom and skipping school. Makes me a great role model for Sam._

Five minutes after just staring at the wall of the stall, he noticed the shuffling of feet outside of it. Someone peered through the cracks.

“Dean Winchester,” a smooth, teasing voice chuckled. That sure as hell wasn’t Castiel.

Dean didn’t answer.

“  _February 11th,_ ” another voice began to recite, followed by the snickers of what he assumed to be two other boys.

Wait. Why were they reading dates off of…

The notebook. The horror sunk in. Dean froze, staring dead out at them through the cracks.

“  _I saw a storm bring new life,_ ” the same voice read dramatically, “  _over empty meadows-_ ”

“You queer,” another voice laughed.

That was from the notebook. Dean frantically unlocked the door, quickly pushing the boy holding the notebook. It was Michael, who sat at the table with Castiel and the rest of the group. He was knocked off-balance for a second before a dark smile took his lips. “So it is yours?”

“Shut up,” Dean growled.

“Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” he asked.

Dean pinned him to the wall of the bathroom, pure rage coursing through his veins, and snatched the notebook.

“I bet you like it,” he said, “putting boys up against the wall like this.”

“No,” Dean claimed with sarcasm, “just my boyfriend.”

Michael’s eyebrows furrowed. Dean harshly pushed him to the side. “Get the hell out of here,” he demanded.

The deathly glare Dean had on his face was wiped out by a punch. He blacked out for a moment before opening his eyes to see Michael’s fist up and swinging towards him. He closed his eyes and winced at the sudden pain.

His dad had punched him and beat him bloody before when he was drunk, but this was different. He enjoyed this- not in some weird sexual way, but in some self-inflicted injury way. He realized he’d be bloody after this, hurt, and that made him feel justified.

The punches came again and again until Dean’s face was swollen and sore. Michael gave up. Dean wasn’t letting him have any fun; he wasn’t fighting back. He and the boys left Dean propped up against the wall, blood streaming down his face. He checked the time on his phone with shaky hands. The bell would ring in a minute or less.

He considered calling Castiel. It was pathetic, and he saw it as a last resort, but called him when the bell rang anyway.

“Dean?” Cas responded, his voice a mixture of confused and worried.

“Boys bathroom by language arts. Meet me there now,” he ordered.

“What- why?” Cas asked.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. He didn’t even have to say it. He had a feeling Castiel knew something was wrong.

“I’m going there now,” he claimed before hanging up.

Dean waited another two minutes before Cas found him in the corner of the bathroom, bruised and bloody.

“Oh my God, Dean,” he gasped.

“Hey, babe. Sorry I look like hell right now, I just need a little help,” Dean claimed with a fake chuckle.

“We need to take you to the nurse,” Cas instructed.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Dean answered, “I just need help getting to my car.”

“Dean, please,” Cas begged in a shaky voice, “you can’t keep doing this.”

Dean spit out blood. “Sorry,” he said.

“No, you keep telling me that you’re fine,” he cried, “and you’re not fine. Dean, I’ve known you my whole life. I know you’re not fine.”

Dean glanced at Cas. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“No. No, you can’t tell me you’re sorry until you tell me the whole story,” Cas said. He put Dean’s notebook and other belonging the boys had gotten to back inside his backpack. He swung the backpack onto his arm. His shoulder nearly refused to hold it since he already was carrying his own backpack.

The next thing Dean felt aside from the throbbing of his face was arms scooping him up to help him stand. Cas’ arm remained wrapped around Dean’s waist, while Dean’s arm was around his shoulder.

“Your parents,” Dean said as he slowly walked down the front steps of the school, “are they gonna be pissed?”

“It doesn’t matter. My excuse is that I was sitting in for a debate club meeting and my phone died before I could call them to let them know I’d be late,” Cas explained.

Dean nodded. “Who’s debating?”

“Hmm...Hael,” Cas decided. He opened the door, cold air hitting Dean’s swollen face. It soothed the injuries and calmed him down. He needed to be home.

 

* * *

 

“It’s six. My parents are gonna be mad I’m not there for dinner,” Cas sighed.

“You still have that excuse,” Dean stated, holding an ice pack to his now cleaned up face. The two were sitting on the couch watching re-runs on TV.

Castiel nodded. He sucked in a breath before asking, “Dean, what’s been going on lately?”

“I don’t know.”

Cas huffed, biting back frustration. “Dammit, Dean!” He stood up with clenched fists. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Dean stared at him in shock. He hadn't cursed in years. “Okay, fine. I’ve just...felt a little depressed lately,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, no shit.” Castiel shook his head.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Dean said.

“I’m sorry,” Cas sighed. He fell back down onto the couch. “I want you to be happy. And I want to know why you’re like this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean said. “I’ve just...I think I have insomnia or something. And maybe my brain isn't functioning correctly because of it."

Cas didn't believe it for a second. Dean seemed to be telling the truth- so maybe he was just a really good liar or he was genuinely suffering from insomnia. It didn't make sense, but there was nothing he could do.

"Cas. It's nothing I can't handle," Dean insisted.

Cas sighed. "It's six-thirty. I should go home," he stated.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded. He placed a short kiss on Dean's lips before leaving.

 

* * *

 

_March 17th_

 

_I don't know how to feel about this pain_

_I tried so hard to tell you_

_But no sound came out._

_Silence me with the spring rains_

_I tried so hard to tell you_

_But nothing makes any sense._


	6. Unbroken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for self-harm.

**Unbroken**

 

_March 26th_

 

_A white rose tainted red by the paintbrush of my mind_

_As it rains- will the thunder take control of the skies?_

_Let your shoulders down_

_and come undone before me_

_Unravel yourself, who you hide underneath the mask_

_And rebel- crawl outside of the box and into life._

 

“Dean!”

The door to Dean's room swung open, waking him up from his sleep. He blinked his eyes open to see Sam standing by his bed.

“What- what time is it?” Dean asked, disoriented.

Sam glanced down at his watch. “It's eight.”

“Why are you waking me up this early? It's Saturday,” Dean complained.

Sam anxiously shrugged. “Guess what?”

“What?” Dean sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I got an email from school, and-” he inhaled deeply in an attempt to contain his calmness, “I got into National Junior Honor Society!”

“Oh, that's awesome. Good job,” Dean congratulated.

Sam beamed. “I've been really trying to get straight A's, and I guess it's paid off.”

“Yeah, that's great,” Dean affirmed.

Sam nodded. “Anyway, I'm gonna go and eat.”

“Cool.” Dean fell back onto the bed, staring up and out of the window. It was snowing. He reached for his phone on the nightstand.

He opened it up and checked his notifications. Not much, but there was a text from Cas from late the previous night.

_Cas: I know you're probably up to stuff but Hael, Michael, April and I are going to the arcade tomorrow. April and Michael are going as a couple and even though my parents’ dream is that I'll marry Hael i wanna go with you. it's at 2 and ends at 5:30_

Dean shuddered as he read the text. Michael? He would rather die before even talking to him, let alone pretending to be civil with each other. He wasn't going and texted Castiel his decision.

_Dean: nah, i'm good but thx. you have fun tho babe_

He then checked the weather. 3 - 6 inches of snow was expected. He set his phone back onto his nightstand before drifting back to sleep.

 

***

_March 30th_

 

_You feel like coming home_

_Like running barefoot on the beach_

_Like the summer sun on my cheeks_

_Like a breath of fresh air_

 

Most of the week passed slowly. Dean was normally found with Castiel or at his house watching TV. He started texting Cas more often than not. Castiel assumed it was a good thing, given Dean was usually reclusive and moody.

On Thursday, Cas and Dean decided they'd stay after school. There was a mile and a half trail just by the school and they planned to meet there.

The snow was still thick on the trail and the clouds still blocked out the sun. By the time Dean found Cas by the trailhead, it was 39 degrees outside. Cas had a sweatshirt on while Dean had three layers- a shirt, flannel, and his leather jacket.

Cas shivered by the trailhead. Dean walked up to him, his heart racing once his eye caught Cas’ striking blue ones. Dean wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed his lips against Cas’. He giggled into the kiss like he’d never been kissed before. The two parted their lips shortly after but still kept their hands entwined as they started to walk the trail.

“I like it when I kiss you. I feel...protected. Unbreakable, even,” Cas admitted.

“Yeah. You're too nice to me,” Dean stated.

Cas placed a short kiss on Dean's lips. “I love you,” he said with sincerity.

Dean sighed happily. “Love you too.”

As they walked along the trail, the cold air sept through their clothes, making them feel cold. They gravitated closer as snow silently began to fall above them.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think...maybe, one day we could get married?” Cas asked reluctantly.

“Sure. That's a long time from now, but Castiel Winchester sounds nice on you,” Dean responded.

“What about Dean Novak?” Castiel thought for a moment. He earned a look of disgust from Dean. Cas laughed. “No, you're right. I like Winchester better.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah. But your parents wouldn't have it, right?”

“Yes, but...I don't care as much anymore. Of course, I don't want my dad to know but I suppose it's inevitable,” Cas shrugged. “Before, I was so scared of kissing you but now we hold hands in the hallways.”

“What if they tried to end everything between me and you?” Dean questioned.

“I would tell them no,” Castiel said, “because nobody can take me from you.”

Dean scoffed with a smile. “Even your dad?”

“Dean, you've changed me,” Castiel explained, “like nobody else ever has. It's like I was living in monotony, in black and white- but you're so different.” He looked Dean in the eye. “You brought me out to a world of color. And I love that about you. You're not like everybody else.”

Dean kissed his forehead. “You give me too much credit.”

“I want to make a promise with you,” Cas proclaimed.

Dean nodded in agreement.

“Don't leave me. And I'll never leave you. I'll fight it,” Cas declared.

“I promise,” Dean said.

***

_March 31st_

 

**_C_  ** _ome to me with nothing but your bare soul_

**_A_  ** _s the spring rains fall against your skin._

**_S_  ** _top me from my thoughts, my_

**_T_  ** _endencies I can't stop anymore_

**_I_  ** _can't stop my skin from crawling_

**_E_  ** _very day, a growing ache for pain and blood but_

**_L_  ** _ove will always lead me back to you._

 

Six in the evening on a Saturday night.

Dean's mind had taken over. He reminisced over the fight he had with Michael and how things got violent. He bled, and sickeningly enough, he liked it. He liked it because he knew it hurt him. In his mind, he deserved it.

He thought of a knife against his skin, a hot pan, anything. He couldn't think of anything else, couldn't get the need out of his mind.

He checked the time periodically.

 _6:04._ He needed to do it. He had to. It’s like the same feeling you get when you’re addicted to something.

 _6:15_. There are knives in the kitchen.

 _6:23_. Is Sam asleep? Where is he? What is he doing? Would he see Dean if he just did it quickly?

 _6:36_. God, make it stop.

He tiptoed in the kitchen. Sam was watching TV and texting someone on his phone. He ambled to the knife drawer, opening it carefully and silently. He clasped his finger around a small, sharp knife and slid it out of the drawer before slowly pushing it shut.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins like the thoughts in mind, repeating,  _Are we really doing this?_ He snuck back up the stairs and into the bathroom. He locked the door and turned on the fan to silence any suspicions Sam could’ve had.

He rolled up his flannel. His heart was pumping. He held the cold, metal knife to the perfectly unscarred skin on his wrist. He sucked in air and-

_Cshhh._

His desire was satisfied.

***

 

_April 2nd_

 

_I think he’s suspicious. The scars are still fresh, but at least they’ve stopped bleeding. Doesn’t mean he can’t sense anything off about me._

_It’s come to this._

_I can’t believe it’s come to this._

_But it feels so nice when I do it, and then I feel like shit right after. It’s like a sugar rush. Exactly what I’m supposed to feel like, right?_

_I can’t do this anymore._

_I don’t wanna be here._

 

The pencil almost seemed to write for him. Dean’s thoughts were clear, but his emotions weren’t. He didn’t want to sort them out. Not outside the boy’s bathroom during passing period, which is exactly where he was.

Groups of kids walked past, completely oblivious to their surroundings, talking about all of the latest drama.

Except for Michael and his dumb group of friends.

“Hey, Dean,” a familiar, sickening voice called.

Dean slammed shut his notebook and held on tight with one arm. ‘The hell do you want, Michael?”

“Just to chat,” he smiled darkly, leaning against the wall beside Dean.

The groups of kids passing through the hallway died down as they entered their classrooms, leaving Dean and Michael nearly alone.

“I’d rather not,” Dean retorted before turning away.

“What about the Novaks?”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. “What about them?”

“Your boyfriend’s dad is a homophobe,” Michael stated, “and I bet he’d hate it if he knew.”

Dean whipped around. “You do anything to Cas, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

Michael chuckled. “And now you’ve threatened my life. Charming,” he snarled with sarcasm. Dean only continued to glare at him, eyes narrow and jaw tense. “Well, anyway, your boyfriend wanted me to pass on a message,” Michael began, “or really, he was just wondering, what the hell is that thing anyway?” He glanced at the notebook. “So I figured, as a good friend…”

He socked Dean right in the jaw. He stumbled back, knocked off-balance and losing his grip of the notebook. Michael must have snatched it right when he was focused on his pain, because when he opened his eyes the notebook was gone.

“Oh, shit!” Dean cursed. He frantically looked around. Michael was gone. “No, no, no, no!” He stormed off into a stall, his breathing heavy and thoughts racing. The first thing he thought of doing was to scratch his scabs open, so he did. He scratched them until blood was dripping down his arm and he could breathe again.

This was the first full-blown panic attack Dean had ever experienced.

***

Castiel missed Dean at lunch. He ate his food silently before Michael started talking to him.

“Hey, Castiel,” Michael greeted.

“Hello, Michael,” Cas responded with a curt nod.

“Hey, you know that notebook you were telling me about?” Michael asked.

“Of Dean’s?”

Michael nodded. He reached into his backpack, pulled out the notebook, and slid it to Cas.

Cas’ eyes skimmed over the front. Blue, just as it was on his nightstand. There were no words, no titles, and no names on the front. He looked at the top. Dean’s initials were written in. “Did he give this to you?”

“Not exactly, but you two are pretty close, so...I figured he wouldn’t mind,” Michael explained.

Cas stuffed the notebook into his backpack. “That’s stealing,” he stated. “And you got this today?”

Michael nodded.

Any trace of joy drained from Castiel’s face. “What did you do to Dean?”

“Nothing, I-”

Cas grabbed his backpack and stood up. “Excuse me,” was all he said before storming off.

***

3:30.

Cas’ phone read 3:30 in the afternoon. He finished all of his homework during study hall. He was bored, wondering what to do. He thought about Dean. And then he thought about the notebook.

He searched his backpack. Folder, folder, binder...notebook. He pulled it out, opening to its first page.

 

_December 25th_

 

_The snow is white_

_The presents are scarce_

_The children next door_

_Laugh without a care,_

_But we’re left to starve_

_Left to the cold_

_And maybe one day_

_We’ll become warmer._

 

Castiel sighed, his expression reflecting concern and sadness. He flipped through the pages until it was dated January 22.

 

_January 22nd_

 

_Black oceans are blue in the daytime._

_Aquamarine turned red as the fish die._

_The predator and the prey,_

_The hunters and the foxes,_

_God amongst barbarians._

 

“This is deep,” Cas muttered to himself. He read a few pages.

 

_January 31st_

 

_I wanna scream at you until my face turns blue_

_Scream at you ‘til I’m too tired to_

_I don’t know why I want it so much_

_But you’re like a whole forest!_

_My voice is just gonna echo, tree to tree._

_And then I’ll realize I’m only whispering._

 

Cas assumed Dean was writing about him. He felt sympathetic and guilty for making him feel the way he portrayed in his writing.

There was a lot of writing about him the following pages until he ran into one completely different.

 

_February 4th_

 

_I hate myself_

_ugly eyes_

_ugly lies_

_I hate my feelings_

_ugly cries_

_ugly lies_

_sometimes I just wanna die_

 

Cas’ eyes widened. Die? He frantically flipped to the next page. More writing about him. His eyes skimmed over the next several days.

Gradually, each one became darker and darker. Even the ones about Cas and about love were rooted around his low self-esteem and what Cas assumed was depression. Panic started to spread throughout his entire being.

 

_March 1st_

 

_I dream._

_I dream of oceans._

_I dream of trying to stay afloat._

_I dream of the sea swallowing me whole._

_I dream of gasping for air until I feel arms around my shoulders._

_I dream of being pulled up to the surface._

_I dream of you letting me breathe._

_I dream of a better ocean._

_I dream._

 

“Oh my God…” he murmured. He asked himself if he was what was keeping alive.

The realization hit him like a train: he shouldn’t have to ask. Was Dean depressed? Was he  _suicidal_?

He read every page after that, some standing out to him more than others.

 

_March 10th_

 

_I don’t wanna live here the way I do_

_my friends hate me_

_I don’t wanna live here the way I_

_try to normalize these thoughts_

_I don’t wanna live here the way_

_things are going now_

_I don’t wanna live here the_

_signs are saying I don’t belong_

_I don’t wanna live here_

_because I’ve let myself come to this_

_I don’t wanna live_

_and maybe that’s true_

 

A tear fell onto the page. Cas realized only then, of course, that it was from him. Did Dean really feel this way? Why didn’t he see it sooner? Why didn’t he do anything? A sob broke out as he turned the page to another date.

 

_March 17th_

_I don't know how to feel about this pain_

_I tried so hard to tell you_

_But no sound came out._

_Silence me with the spring rains_

_I tried so hard to tell you_

_But nothing makes any sense._

 

Castiel put his hand on his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears streamed down his face as more sobs erupted from his core. Why didn’t he help him? Why was he so useless to Dean?

His shaking hands turned it to the current date.

 

_April 2nd_

 

_I think he’s suspicious. The scars are still fresh, but at least they’ve stopped bleeding. Doesn’t mean he can’t sense anything off about me._

_It’s come to this._

_I can’t believe it’s come to this._

_But it feels so nice when I do it, and then I feel like shit right after. It’s like a sugar rush. Exactly what I’m supposed to feel like, right?_

_I can’t do this anymore._

_I don’t wanna be here._

 

Scars?  
Castiel’s heart dropped.  _He’s cutting,_  he thought.  _Oh my God, this is really bad._ He sucked in a long, uneasy breath of air.

Then he checked the time. 4:00.

He was getting the hell out of there.


	7. Speak to Me With Words Unspoken

**Speak to Me With Words Unspoken**

 

_Knock knock knock._

A visitor at the Winchester household was more than likely to be Castiel. But why at 4:30 in the afternoon? It was way later than usual.

“Probably your husband,” Sam teased from the table.

Dean rolled his eyes before swinging the door open. The smile on his face quickly faded. Castiel was standing there, red-nosed with tears streaming down his face from his bloodshot puppy dog eyes. His face was tired and blank aside from the tears. Dean had only seen Cas cry once, but never like this.

“Sam, go upstairs,” Dean instructed, followed by the audible footsteps of Sam running up the steps.

“Dean,” Castiel cried, shaking his head.

He knew just by the way he said it. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Dean, show me your arms,” Cas demanded, voice breaking.

Dean averted his gaze to his feet. “Cas, please,” he muttered, his eyes sealing shut as he let out a long sigh.

“No! Don’t pull that with me!” he yelled. “Don’t _pull_ that with me!” He blinked away the liquid filling his eyes as he stared at Dean and his lack of eye contact. He walked into Dean’s arms and buried his face in his shoulder. He started sobbing harder as Dean held him with one arm and used the other to shut the door behind him.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, “Castiel.”

Cas gasped for air and cried until no sound came out. His fingers were gripping hard onto Dean’s flannel. He half-stood, half-leaned into Dean.

“I don’t care about anybody like I care about you,” he choked, “so how could you lie to me? I could’ve helped you. I could’ve helped you…” He pulled away from Dean. “Please tell me the truth. There’s nothing I can’t know at this point.”

“Cas, please, just sit down. We’ll talk about this.” Dean kissed his cheek and led him to the couch. Cas instinctively curled back up into Dean’s embrace.

“Dean,” Cas started, half-closing his tired, watery eyes. “Do you…” He sighed. Try again. “Are you…” Nope. “Did you…Ugh.”

“Take your time,” Dean soothed.

Cas focused on regulating his breathing. In and out. Slowly. “My darling,” he said softly as if he was grounding himself.

Dean kissed his forehead. “I’m- I’m gonna be okay,” he assured without a shred of confidence in his voice.

Cas rested his hand on top of Dean’s. “Don’t lie to me. Please.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I know you’re depressed. But Dean…” he paused, trying to regain words. “Are you suicidal?”

Dean sighed. “Cas...”

Cas shook his head again. “Dean.” He reached for the hem on Dean’s sleeve.

“Cas, please-”

He pulled it up, revealing fresh wounds. There were some messy pink scratch marks, but the beet red cuts were what caught his attention. There weren’t even that many- only three or four on that arm, but pure horror filled Cas’ heart when he saw them. Dean moved his hand away and yanked his sleeve back down.

“But I love you.”

The words stung this time. They didn’t sound happy. They sounded hurt.

“Dean, I love you.”

They almost sounded wrong, like if words could be turned upside down, that’s what they’d sound like.

“Please,” Cas begged, “don’t do this.”

“This isn’t for you to worry about,” Dean insisted.

Cas shook his head. “No, Dean,” he said, “I have to. I need to.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. The two completely paused for a moment. “I don’t want this to mess anything up,” he admitted.

“Then tell me what to do to make it better,” Cas told him.

“Treat it like nothing happened. Treat me like I’m fine,” Dean said.

“You know I can’t do that,” Cas claimed. “You’re not fine.”

“Fine, then be nice, but don’t act all weird.” Dean received a slow nod from Cas. He reached for the remote and turned on the TV to break the silence around them.

“Dean, can you please stop hurting yourself?” Cas asked.

Silence. Dean didn’t respond.

“Couldn’t you at least reduce it to one…” he paused, searching for the right words to say. “To one...one cut a week? And that’s it?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

“For me, Dean. You promised you would never leave.”

He nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll do it for you,” he repeated quietly.

 

***

Dean was munching on a pretzel from Castiel’s lunch the next day. He was given many glares and dirty looks from Michael every time his eyes wandered to where he was. Cas placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked in a low voice.

“Good enough to function,” Dean replied.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Cas said, reaching for Dean’s hand and holding it under the table. “I mean it.”

“We should...go to the Clubhouse again,” Dean suggested. “You know, like a date.”

Cas nodded in agreement. “When were you thinking?”

“I don’t care.”  
“Tomorrow after school, then.”

Something changed in the way Cas carried himself around Dean. He was more protective, more soft-spoken, almost like a guardian angel. He was very gentle with Dean like he was glass. But he didn’t want Cas to baby him. He showed dominance and plastered on a mask of fake confidence whenever he was with Cas in public.

“Hey, I got a mini cherry pie,” Cas stated with a smile on his face.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Dean laughed as his mouth watered. He eyed the pie as Cas withdrew it from his lunch bag. “I love me some pie.”

“I know,” Cas said, handing him the small box with the mini pie. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“Oh, me too,” Dean agreed, “I don’t know what I’d do without pie.” He opened the box. “And- and you, of course,” he reassured before taking a bite of the pie. Cas laughed at how dramatically Dean acted when he was given his favorite food.

 _Whatever makes him happy,_ Cas thought. _I’ll do whatever makes him happy._ Once the grade was dismissed, Cas kissed Dean right on the lips before everyone left. Dean took it as a surprise, given that it lasted a few seconds instead of a fraction of one. Maybe he was finally beginning to actually not care about what people thought. He was starting to think like Dean.

 _At least it makes me happy_ , Dean thought.

 

***

 

_April 4th_

 

_Two days ago_

_he saw it and he knew_

_Two days ago_

_this very notebook, a sea of blue_

_And I know he’s always gonna be there_

_but_

_I gotta get better_

_I gotta be better_

_because you’re too good-_

 

Eraaaaase.

He didn’t want to write about sad things this time. He wanted to forget what happened, to push it out of his mind and pretend everything was completely perfect.

 

_April 4th_

 

_I don’t deserve you_

_I bite my lip and hold my tongue_

_All the things I could do_

_All the things we could do._

_Cause looking in his ocean eyes make me wanna_

_kiss him ‘til his lips can’t work_

_and his midnight hair, all messy on the top makes me wanna_

_run my hands through it and touch him ‘til my hands can’t work_

_and his smile makes me wanna_

_show him the entire world._

_I’ll wait for you._

 

Perfect. He hid the notebook in his nightstand drawer, now paranoid of anyone else finding it and taking it. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He opened it to his messaging app, Castiel being the first out of the row of conversations. He pressed it.

_Dean: Hey._

He waited for a response.

_Cas: Hi darling :)_

He chuckled and typed another response.

_Dean: I could really go for a phone call or something. Just want to hear your voice._

Sent. Delivered. Read. His phone started to buzz, the screen going to Cas’ contact photo. He answered the call.

“Hello,” Cas greeted in a hushed voice.

“Hey, Cas. I can’t get my four hours,” Dean stated.  
“Of sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Insomnia,” Cas sighed. “Dean, it’s almost twelve. I shouldn’t even be up right now.” He paused after hearing the disappointed groan coming from the other end. “But...I want to make you happy.”

“If you’re tired, you can go sleep. Seriously, I-”  
“Shh, Dean,” Cas soothed, “it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“I, uh...should let you sleep,” Dean stated.

Cas scoffed. “And leave you to restlessness?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, actually, I think I can just try to sleep,” Dean insisted.

Pause. Silence.

“Would you...like me to read you something?” Cas inquired.

“I’m- uh...Sure, I guess.”

“Okay, let me find something.”

Dean pulled a pillow from the bottom of his bed and put it under his head while he waited.

Cas took a deep breath. “Okay. Once upon a time-”

“Uh-uh,” Dean interrupted.

“What?”

“Fairy tales? Really?”

Cas laughed. “I guess I forgot who I’m talking to.”

Dean shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, you really did for a second there.”

“How does _Love, Aubrey_ sound?”

“Like a sad chick-flick turned into a book,” Dean argued.

“You’re picky, love.”  
“Love? Are you British now?”

Cas giggled. “Stop making fun of me, Dean!” He whispered with a mix of laughter into the phone. “I’m trying to be romantic for the both of us since you..well, you're Dean. But I also...I really want you to feel better.”  
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be fine,” Dean persuaded.

Cas paused. “I...Dean, you hurt yourself and you sounded suicidal in your notebook,” he said with a serious voice. “That’s not fine to me.”

“I’m not...suicidal,” Dean claimed. It sounded like he was experimenting with the words, trying to fit them into his mouth. But they didn’t feel completely natural. It's not like he really even knew what felt natural at that point. 

“Okay,” Cas sighed. “That’s okay. You’re right, I’m overreacting. You’re gonna be okay. And you...haven’t hurt yourself since we talked, right?”

“No,” Dean answered truthfully. There was a pause between them for a moment. “But hey, I’m a Winchester. We pull through things. So I'm gonna be fine. Okay?”

“You know, it’s okay to ask for help,” Cas informed.

Dean didn’t respond to that.

"Maybe a therapist, or someone that could maybe put you on meds. The school counselor, even," Cas persuaded.

"Meds?" Dean scoffed. "No, Cas, I'm fine without them."

"Dean, it's okay to-"

“Uh, you're starting to sound tired. You should sleep.”

Cas bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go sleep. I’ll be fine,” he convinced.

“Okay. I love you,” Cas said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh, you too. Night.”

The line went dead. This was going to be a long, sleepless night.

***

_April 8th_

 

_Words a child should never utter_

_fell from his lips_

_and he may be old enough to understand_

_but not to feel it_

***

 

Sam had been watching Dean cautiously all day. Every time he’d walk past just to grab something from the kitchen or sat down in the living room, he felt his younger brother’s eyes staring into him. But at the dinner table?

He just wanted to eat his cereal in peace.

“Okay, what the hell’s going on?” Dean boomed.

Sam jolted. “Nothing,” he answered defensively.

Dean returned a glare that seemed to say, “Quit feeding me your bullcrap, Sam.”

Sam sighed. “Look, I’ve just been worried,” he admitted.

“Okay,” Dean responded almost questioningly.

Sam broke the eye contact they had. “About you,” he muttered.

“Me?” Dean scoffed. “I’m fine, Sam.

“Really?” Sam’s voice rose. “Because Cas called me two days ago worried that you tried to kill yourself because you weren’t at school that day.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “He...no, he didn’t.”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam proclaimed, “he did. So tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, Sam. He probably was just stressed out or something that day,” Dean insisted.

Sam shook his head. “No. He’s known you since you were eleven. I’ve known you my whole life. You’ve never acted like this and both of us know that.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to life! Shit happens!” Dean yelled, standing up from his chair.

“You think I don’t know that?” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “When Mom died, you pulled through. When Dad left for months at a time, you were fine. But you haven’t been yourself at all lately.”

“Back off, alright?” Dean commanded. “I’m okay. I’m okay!”

“Your best friend thought you were going to  _kill_ yourself!” Sam shouted. “Dean, that’s not normal! That’s not okay!”

Dean held his arms up. “What do you want me to say? You want me to go and cry on your shoulder, maybe do a little slow-dancing?”

Tears began to poke at Sam’s eyes. “No, Dean, but I’m tired of this crap you’re pulling. I see right through it.” He shook his head and turned away, leaving Dean standing by a table with half-eaten platters of food.

Half an hour later Dean received a text.

_Sam: Sorry I argued with you, but you need to see a therapist or something. My head hurts like hell. Good night._

***

 

It was the passing period between third and fourth period the next. Hordes of tired-looking kids and their friend groups were standing in the halls. Cas was walking alone to the math classroom when someone yanked his arm from behind and pulled him into the bathroom. His head whipped around defensively with a glare before his expression softened. “Dean?”

Dean pulled him into a stall and locked the door. “What the hell did you tell Sam?” he asked with a hushed voice that tried to mask his angry tone.

“I…” Cas looked down. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Cas, you can’t tell people these things. That’s why I never wanted to tell you. People freak out when you even joke about stuff like this,” Dean explained. “That notebook is just a bunch of sad, sappy stuff I’ve thought about. I just wanted to get better at writing since I had two D’s in language arts. So I wrote about my thoughts. I didn’t think you’d find it.” He sighed and reluctantly put his arm around Cas, pulling him in. “What does he know?” Dean asked again, a gentleness settling in his voice.

“Dean, I was scared. I-I can’t lose you, I don’t know what I’d do,” Cas confessed in a choked voice. “I was...I was scared because of...I didn’t know if you’d keep your promise.”

Dean hated it when Cas cried. For starters, he didn’t cry often before he found the notebook. It was a rare occurrence, and he only did it when he was seriously hurt. But he was seriously hurt. Reading the notebook was traumatizing for him. This whole ordeal was traumatizing for him. The fact that he cried regularly said a lot and that only worried Dean.

“Cas, pull it together,” Dean ordered. He grabbed Cas by the shoulders and pushed him out so he was in front of Dean. “Hey. Look at me.”

Cas hesitantly brought his head up and locked his reddening eyes with Dean’s.

“Do I look like a liar to you?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head.

“Then there’s no promise I’ll break,” Dean claimed.

Cas blinked back tears and swallowed hard. He went back to Dean and wrapped his arms around him. His eyes squeezed shut as tears fell down. “I told him you weren’t acting normal and that I thought something happened,” he croaked.

“Nothing’s gonna happen. Cas, you gotta focus on you. You can’t keep worrying about me,” Dean stated.

“Okay. I love you,” Cas said.

Dean nodded.

“Dean, I love you,” Cas said, more serious this time.

“Okay, okay. You too,” Dean murmured. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. “We’re so late for math class. Is your nerd ass still gonna be on the honor roll after this?”

Cas chuckled through his tears at the joke. “Yes, Dean. It’s grades, not attendance.”

Dean nodded and unlocked the locker. “Let’s go.”

Everything was alright.  _This is only a bump in the road_ , Cas convinced himself.

Of course, the class had some conspiracies about why the two just emerged from the bathroom, conveniently at the same time, especially since they were a couple. The light teasing and joking lifted Cas’ mood anyway, so in the end, it was worth it.

***

“Son of a bitch!”

It was a Friday afternoon. Sam was wincing and groaning in pain as Dean held an ice pack to his head. This was the fourth migraine within the past week he experienced.

“It hurts so bad,” Sam whined, biting down on a piece of cloth and squeezing his eyes shut.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sam,” Dean shrugged.

Sam shot him a glare through one eye. “Can’t you call a doctor?”

“Well, yeah, but we might need to use Dad’s emergency fund. Is it that bad?” Dean asked.

“Yes! It  _is_ that bad!” Sam hissed.

Dean sighed. “Hang tight.” He whipped out his phone and searched up the local doctor’s office. He dialed the phone number the web search had provided.

“Hi, I’m Dean. My little brother Sam has been having these really bad headaches-”

“Migraines!” Sam corrected.

“Uh, migraines, sorry, all throughout this week.” He paused. “Yes, please...Uh-huh. Yeah, anytime works...Sounds good. Thanks. Bye.”

Sam looked up at Dean expectantly.

“You’re in tomorrow at eight,” Dean told him. “Bright and early.”

Sam groaned.

***

 

Sam’s self-diagnosis was right- he was experiencing migraines. The doctor he saw prescribed him a painkiller which Dean picked up at a Walgreens shortly after the appointment.

Dean held the full bottle in his hand as he drove, constantly glancing between it and the road. He could take it- all of it. But he didn’t want to. The urge still overwhelmed him, regardless of what he wanted. He glanced at the digital clock by the car radio. 9:15 AM. Sam could wait. He’d call if it got bad.

The car zoomed past the road Dean lived on. He drove into a less suburban neighborhood, the trees increasing as the houses died down. He drove past the forest area and the trails with The Clubhouse. He drove to clear his mind.

He finally placed the bottle down in the cupholder. He reached to turn up the volume on the radio. It was on the classic rock station, but he wasn’t listening. Song, chatter, song, chatter- that’s all he heard. The sound of the engine, the overwhelming music, and the rattling of the pills was enough to drive him mad.

He quickly pulled over, realizing he was hyperventilating. The tips of his fingers began to tingle. His whole hand would soon go numb. He leaned back and rode out the storm.


	8. Shatter Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big TW for suicide. Don't like, don't read.

At 2:00 AM, most people should be asleep. But there was Dean Winchester, anxiously pacing back and forth across the living room in his PJs. His skin was crawling and his mind was racing. The silence was overwhelming- every little sound was amplified drastically.

He never considered himself suicidal. He might’ve been depressed, but suicide wasn’t part of his vocabulary. Sure, he’d imagined what would happen if he died, but he considered it a normal part of life.

But never like this.

He was considering every part. Life wasn’t really worth living for him, was it? He had Sam and Cas. But what else? He wasn’t an honor roll student. He wasn’t popular or well-known. He didn’t have many friends- in fact, his reputation wasn’t very clean. He reeked of self-hatred and guilt. So what made life so worthwhile?

Maybe nothing.

If he died, would his father even care? Would his father, who he looked up to, who was never there for him, who was an alcoholic, even show up at his funeral? Would he even have one?

And Sam and Cas- he depended on them too much. Maybe they would feel relieved. Sam wouldn’t have to keep worrying about his older brother more than his own grades and Cas wouldn’t have to worry what Dean’s next move would be. They wouldn’t have to keep cleaning up his mess.

If he died, would he see his mother? Would she hold him in her arms as she did when he was a small child? Where would he go? Was there a heaven or hell?

It didn’t matter. Even hell would be better than life. Maybe he really was suicidal.

He checked the time again. 2:30 AM.

Was he really going to do this? His heart raced. He quickly glanced around before running up the stairs to the bathroom. He locked the door and frantically searched the medicine cabinet. He grabbed the almost-full pill bottle Sam was prescribed. His hands were sweaty as he fumbled to get it open. He grabbed three pills- three times the amount needed in 24 hours. Would it work?

He was gonna take the risk.

He set the bottle down by the sink and sank to the floor. He just sat and thought in silence for what felt like hours. He looked down to the pills. They were small and white. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He shoved the pills into his mouth and kept them there for a minute, observing the sour taste. He swallowed.

He stared into the wood of the cabinet before fishing his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and went to the message conversation he had with Sam. His breaths were short and fast-paced as he typed a message.

_Dean: Hey. I hope you get into Stanford or whatever fancy college you wanted to be in. You keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry about anything else. Except for the car. You better take good care of that thing or I will come and haunt your ass. Love you. I’m sorry. Bye for now Sammy._

A single tear fell from his eye. He sniffed and blinked, only to let more fall down his face. He hated the feeling and wiped every single one away, his frustration growing as more fell.

He searched for Cas’ conversation. This was going to be rough. He started feeling dizzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was the pills he took or the anxiety he was feeling. He had never felt this bad. His anxiety and depression had reached its peak. He just waited for it to be all over.

_Dean: Hey Cas. I’m sorry. I love you. I never really said that enough but I do. You better keep up being an honor roll student. And don’t ever forget. BE YOURSELF. No matter what happens, just know there is so much more to life than being normal. Bye for now._

His vision was alternating from black to blurry. He pressed send. He tried re-reading what he said, but halfway through he blacked out completely, falling sideways to the floor with a thud.

***

 

Castiel woke up at 6:00 AM to a notification signifying a text from Dean. He smiled and opened his phone, excited to read the text as he was every time he got a text from Dean. He saw how long it was and his eyebrows furrowed. It wasn’t like Dean to send long texts like this.

He read the first line and his eyes widened. The second line filled them with tears. He read the last sentence.

_Bye for now._

His heart shattered into a million pieces.

Bye for now? What was that supposed to mean?

He did it. Dean actually, really did it. Cas didn’t even get to say goodbye.

He stared at the screen in shock, tears escaping his eyes. He didn’t realize his mouth was wide open until he gasped for air. His breath was uneven, shaky, and whiny. He held in his breath before it came out in loud sobs.

He just lost Dean.

He just lost his Dean.

The boy he knew for years, the boy he imagined he’d marry, the boy he loved with his entire heart was gone. Just like that.

“No…” he uttered, “no, no, no…” He buried his face in his arms, rocking himself back and forth in a fetal position as he cried. He gripped onto his phone.

His door creaked open to reveal his younger brother, Gabriel, who looked like he just walked out of bed. “Whoa...What happened?”

Cas looked up. “Gabriel…” He shook his head before bringing his head back down.

Gabriel walked in and sat on the bed right next to Cas. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Cas, what happened?”

Cas stopped rocking and tried to regulate his breathing. “Go,” he ordered shakily. “Go, Gabe.”

Gabriel hesitantly nodded and patted Cas’ shoulder before walking out of his room. “Uh...sorry about whatever it is,” he apologized before closing the door behind him.

Cas stared at the door blankly. Tears still spilled from his eyes, but it felt like he couldn’t move. He checked the time. 6:15. He knew it was stupid. He knew it was so, so, so pathetic and dumb. But he opened his phone to dial Dean’s number. He pressed call. It rang out. His voicemail played.

“You’ve reached Dean Winchester. I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message.”

Cas let it play out. The automated voice that came after the voicemail said to leave a message at the tone. He heard a beep, but he said absolutely nothing. He just kept holding the phone up to his ear.

The knob of his door turned and swung open. “Castiel? What’s going on?” He recognized the voice as his mother’s. “Castiel, look at me.”

Cas turned his gaze to her but barely moved his head.

“Why are you crying?” she asked as she moved closer to his bed and kneeled in front of him.

“Mom…” he shook his head and bit his lip. He began to sob again, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. This was it. He was terrified to even tell her. “It’s...it’s...Dean.”

His mother sighed in sympathy. “Give me your phone,” she said in a calm voice. Cas hesitated before slowly reaching his phone out to her.

She looked at the screen and read the text. Cas’ heart was racing in his chest. “We need to report this,” she stated.

Anger welled up inside Cas. “My best friend, my damn boyfriend, just tried to kill himself, and _that’s_ what you’re worried about?” he growled.

“Castiel Novak, do not raise your voice at me. We’ll talk about this later,” she said. She walked out, phone in hand.

Cas fell back onto his bed, swallowing hard. He kicked off his sheets and scrambled right back out. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. He stood and thought for a few minutes in an attempt to collect himself.

“Castiel!”

His mother was calling for him. He ambled to the door and downstairs. His parents were sitting at the table. “Sit.” Cas pulled a chair out and sat in it.

“We reported it to the school,” his mother told him.

Cas nodded, empty eyes staring past the table.

***

 

“My God…” Dean woke up with a pounding headache. “Shit, shit, shit…” he cursed. It didn’t work. It knocked him out but wasn’t near enough to kill him. He immediately felt the urge to vomit. He scrambled to bring the toilet seat up and emptied the contents of his stomach.

He exhaled sharply. “Goddammit…” He checked the time on his phone. 6:30. He wasn’t even going to justify it to anyone. He’d see Cas at school, explain that it was a misunderstanding, and boom- they’d all be good again.

Right?

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Dean, please tell me that’s you throwing up,” Sam said anxiously. Dean crawled to the door and unlocked it and went back to the toilet.

He opened the door. “You’re alive.” Sam sighed in relief. “God. You’re alive,” he smiled and hugged Dean, who was still crouched over the toilet.

“Hey, hey, mind the stomach,” Dean groaned.

Sam backed up and looked at Dean. He was ghost-pale and looked weak. He saw his pill bottle on the floor. “You took my painkillers?”

Dean glanced at Sam. “Sorry.”

“We need to get you to the hospital, now,” he worried.

“No, Sam, I’m good,” Dean insisted.

“You overdosed! And you’re sick now!” Sam shouted.

“Shut up, I’ll be fine,” Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam shook his head. “You’re so stubborn. How many did you take?”

Dean shrugged. “Two? Three?”

Sam sighed. “Okay, fine. But you at least need to show up at school that way you can go to the nurse if you feel bad.”

Dean shrugged. “Sure thing.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. Dean fell back onto the wall. “You can’t...Dean, you can’t just give up on us like that. I mean, you’ve heard the saying that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, right?”

Dean looked at Sam. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You’re getting a therapist and that’s final,” Sam ordered.

Dean sighed. “Go, I need to get ready and wash my mouth out.”

Sam nodded, grabbing his pill bottle and any other medication in the bathroom before walking out.

Dean sat silently for a couple of minutes. “Well, let’s hope I still have a boyfriend after this,” he sighed.

***

_April 13th_

 

_I broke the ocean._

_I break everything I touch._

 

***

 

Tired, Dean sat at his desk in third period. He hadn’t seen Cas at all, which he probably would before school. And then he didn’t see him going to his first period class. Maybe he missed something. What if he worried Cas to the point where he was sick?

As the teacher began to talk to the class after the morning announcements, the class phone began to ring. She walked over and picked up the phone. Fear flooded throughout Dean’s system, unsure of why she was getting a call. He took in a breath and heard the phone being put down.

“Dean, you’re needed in the counseling office.”

The words struck him like a knife.

He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. He stood up and swung his backpack around his shoulder before leaving the classroom. “Dammit,” he cursed to himself as he walked briskly to the counseling office. “Dammit!”

Before he reached the counseling office door, he sighed. This was it. Every decision he made had come to this.

He opened the door to see the registrar at her desk. “Hello,” she greeted with a smile. She had a very bright demeanor, but by no means was that effective to Dean. “What’cha need?”

“I’m...I was called here,” Dean stated.

“What’s your name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Oh, yes. Mrs. White would like to see you,” the lady claimed before standing up and motioning to Dean. “Follow me.”

She led him to what he assumed was Mrs. White’s office. The door was already opened. Mrs. White turned towards the door once they caught her attention. “Dean, right?” she asked with a half-hearted smile, followed by a nod from Dean. “Come sit.”

Dean shut the door behind him as he walked to the small table in the office. He sat down. “Why am I here?”

Mrs. White sighed. “I think you know why, Dean.”

Dean sharply inhaled and let his head fall back. He said nothing.

“You’re friends with Castiel Novak, right?” she asked.

“A little more than that, but sure,” Dean shrugged.

“A little more?”

“Yeah, I kiss him and I get a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest when I do so,” Dean said sarcastically and paused when he saw the serious look on her face. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Dean, he was very afraid you were going to kill yourself,” she sighed. “Is that what the message you sent him meant?”

Dean broke the eye contact they had and glanced down to the papers she had. He gave her a small nod.

She asked another question.

He gave another answer.

And that’s what he spent the rest of the day doing.

 

***

 

“So you were dating a boy, Castiel?”

Cas looked down at his feet. “Yes,” he answered.

His father shook his head. “I raised a queer.”

Another tear slipped from Cas’ eye. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not to talk to this boy again,” his mother instructed.

Cas went silent.

“Do you understand, Castiel?”

He blinked back more tears. “But I love him, Mom. He’s my everything. He’s my world.”

She shook her head. “No. You know it’s not-”

“God’s will!” Castiel yelled. He stood up and pushed his chair aside. “I get it! You’ve been drilling it into my head since I could speak! But don’t you understand? I won’t leave him, not over my dead body,” he hissed.

“Sit down, boy!” his father demanded.

Cas stood by his chair. “No. No, I’d rather anything but be away from him,” he argued.

“This isn’t up for negotiation,” his mother stated. “We’re switching your classes with him. If you talk to him, then don’t consider this your home.”

Cas stopped fighting it. He would never win- it was like playing against God.

He spent the day crying.

 

***

 

Dean dialed Lisa’s number. He had mostly isolated himself from everyone during the past few months, so contact with her was on and off.

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” she answered.

“I, uh...I lost Cas,” he confessed.

There was a pause. “You...how? Are you okay?”

“I...I attempted,” Dean admitted hesitantly. Shame washed over him. “But for the love of God, I’m...I’ll be fine.”

“Oh my God, Dean,” Lisa fretted.

“Well, he reported it. His parents hate me now and...I guess he’s not allowed to talk to me anymore,” he explained.

“I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, me too.”

“Can you... maybe try to talk to him? Pull the whole secret Romeo and Juliet thing without the suicide?” Lisa suggested.

He scoffed. “I wish I could, Lisa. I really do. But this is serious.”

Lisa sniffed. “God. I’m sorry. That sucks. I know how much he meant to you,” she consoled.

“Yeah. I just want to be able to work things out at some point,” he hoped.

 

***

 

On Monday, Dean was called into the counseling office first thing and told not to talk to Castiel. He no longer saw him in any of his classes.

When their eyes locked during passing period, the vibrant cerulean blue that used to fill Cas’ eyes were gone. Instead, there was only a dull grey-blue.

Cas’ ocean was broken.

No, it was  _stolen_. Somebody took that beautiful sea he held that made him who he was. Somebody took his light.

Cas abruptly turned away with a saddened expression before he could become attached to the moment any more than he already was.

Dean sighed with guilt.  _I really messed this one up_ , he thought.


	9. My Darling, My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for underage drinking.

**My Darling, My Love**

 

_May 20th_

 

_Cas,_

_I have so many unsent letters to you. I miss you. You know I do. And yet you don’t make a change. It’s your life. What are you going to do about it? What will you do about me?_

_The world can keep turning and spinning. People can keep talking and talking. Trees keep on growing; seasons keep changing. The world keeps spinning without you in my arms. How dare it?_

_I don’t believe in God. But I have faith you’ll come back._

_You will, right?_

 

***

 

April and May were the hardest months for Dean. The sun was finally beginning to come out, but without Cas with him to see it there was no point in celebrating. He no longer sat at the table with Castiel, Michael, and the others. Michael would sometimes tease him in the hallways, trying to get a reaction out of him or at least evoke some kind of emotion. But Dean would just keep on walking, no light in his eyes aside from the fire raging in his mind.

But Dean was too empty to react. He hit rock bottom, and that was no fun place to be. He forgot the feeling of Cas. He forgot how he felt on his lips, how he laughed when Dean said some stupid joke, and every little habit he had. Now all Dean had was the mere shells of memories, just knowing that it happened. No feelings, no nothing but the knowledge of it happening.

The little things hurt more than the big ones. It hurt when he remembered how they wanted so desperately to get out of that God-awful town, to get in a car and just drive- maybe even all the way to the west coast or eastern seaboard. When Cas said “I love you” for the first time.

The night air was cold as Dean sat on his porch and looked up to the few stars out in suburbia. Cas was just down the street, to the left, third house down. He wondered if he was looking out his window. Maybe he thought of him sometimes.

He silenced his thoughts by taking a swig from the remaining bottle of whiskey his dad left from a few weeks prior. Not a very wise choice for having a teenage boy with nobody to go to. Sam had tried with him, but Dean was stubborn and hard to fight. He copied the only coping mechanisms he’d seen from his father- keep it inside. Be a man. And drink.

Dean started therapy but it felt like he was getting nowhere. He was repeating the same days over and over, talking about the same things over and over.

He found himself wandering down the pathway of his dry and dying lawn and onto the sidewalk. It was dimly lit, being late at night. Or was it early in the morning? He forgot at that point.

He didn’t know how much time passed when he was standing in front of the Novak’s house. It was dark and no lights were on, except for one room.

Cas’ room.

 

***

 

“Uh, Cas, buddy...you might wanna check this out,” Gabriel said as he looked out the window.

Cas furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and tilted his head to the side. “Gabe, it’s midnight. There’s nothing _to_ check out.”

“No, you wanna take a look at this,” he assured, shaking his head.

Cas rolled his eyes and crawled out of bed. He looked out the window, seeing nothing but darkness at first until he looked under the streetlamp. Under the pale yellow light was Dean, leaning against the lamp and smoking a cigarette. Cas' sucked in a breath, shocked.

“Wow. That's some dedication,” Gabriel marveled.

Cas shook his head. “This isn’t funny.” He bit his lip in thought. “Go and check on him. But make sure Mom and Dad are asleep first.”

Gabriel scoffed. “If I’m doing this, then so are you.”

Cas sighed and hesitantly nodded. “Fine, but you need to make sure Mom and Dad are asleep first. And if you tell anyone, I will hate you for the rest of time.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Fair.” He turned around and walked out to the hallway. Cas continued to look out the window.

God, Dean was perfect. He could see every feature from afar like he missed nothing about him for the past few months. But there was no point in denying that he missed him, even if he’d only gone a month without him. Maybe Dean was depressed and a little unstable, but that didn’t change how Cas felt. There was still a light in Dean, hidden behind all of the dark, cloudy emotions.

Cas' thoughts were interrupted as Gabe broke the silence. “Hey, they’re dead asleep. I’m one-hundred percent sure,” he stated from the doorway.

Cas inhaled sharply. “Okay.” He nodded before walking out of his room. As he walked through the hallway and down the stairs, his thoughts were a mantra of, “I can’t believe I’m doing this” and “what if I get caught?”

He stopped by the front door and looked at Gabriel. He got a reassuring nod from Gabriel and slowly opened the door, careful not to make any sound. He felt the cool spring air hit his body and cautiously stepped outside, Gabriel following behind him. He shut the door silently.

Cas’ heart stopped when he saw Dean. He forgot every fear in his mind. It didn't matter if he got caught, nothing mattered as he ran out past the lawn, stopping at the sidewalk. His heavy footsteps and running figure caught Dean’s attention as he approached the streetlamp.

His eyes widened as he saw Cas coming towards him. He put out his cigarette and walked over to him, his steps jumbled. “Cas,” he breathed with a smile.

Cas’ heart raced. “Dean,” he greeted. The words felt foreign on his tongue.

Dean pulled Cas in to kiss him. The warmth of his lips completed him. They held onto each other as if the world was ending. Dean pulled away a while to catch his breath, but still maintained a hug. “Cas, I missed you,” he said, his words slurred.

“I know, Dean,” Cas affirmed after a few seconds of silence. “I know.” He melted into Dean's touch, then took his smell in, consisting of leather, musk, cigarettes, and...alcohol? “Darling, have you been drinking?”

Dean chuckled at the name. It’s been a second since he’d heard that. “A little.”

“I think it’s been more than just that,” Cas murmured.

Dean didn’t respond to that. “I’m...I'm sorry, Cas. About everything.”

“It’s okay, Dean. Please don’t blame yourself for any of this,” Cas assured. “It just happened. It’s not your fault. It just turned out to be this way. Okay? It just ended up the way it is.”

Dean nodded. He broke away from the embrace, still keeping his hand on Cas’ shoulder. His eyes locked with Cas’. It may have been dark, but he could still see the blue. “It was Sam’s birthday a lil’ while ago.”

“Oh, right. Was it the fourth? Or the fifth?” Cas questioned.

“The...fourth,” Dean answered. “Th’ fourth of May.”

“Tell him I said happy birthday. I...I can’t give him a chocolate bar like I did with Lisa,” he stammered. He broke the eye contact he had with Dean and looked down at his feet.

“Cas,” Dean sighed. “Cas, ‘s okay.”

Cas shook his head, fighting the tears that began to well up in his eyes. “Dean, I can’t fight any of this. Trust me, I wish I could be with you. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Dean let out a long sigh. “Cas, I need you,” he puled. “I never said it enough t’you.”

Cas looked up to him. Dean wasn’t one to outright say he loved someone, as his way of telling someone he loved them was telling them he needed them. Cas knew that. “I know you do, Dean. I always knew you did. And I love you too,” Cas replied with a sniff.

“You two are saps,” Gabriel teased to lighten the mood.

Cas chuckled and wiped his eyes. “He’s not a sap, he’s just drunk,” he grinned. He looked back at Dean and his expression faded. “You know I can’t do this again. My parents would kill me if they caught me. I could lose everything. Even this is risky.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said with disappointed undertones.

“Can you promise me something, darling?” Cas inquired.

“Yeah,” Dean responded.

“I want you to get help. I want you to heal,” Cas pleaded. “What you can do for me right now is try to be happy. And I know it’s hard, but I want you to work towards it.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed doubtfully. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Cas whispered. “Good, Dean.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on Dean’s lips. “I love you, Dean. Don’t forget that.”

Dean gazed at Cas for a moment. “Love you too, Cas.” He watched as Cas slowly and hesitantly let go of him walked away and began to cry. Gabriel looked at Dean with sympathy before following Cas back inside, his hand on Cas' back in comfort.

And just like that, he was gone. It wasn't enough.

***

_May 23nd_

 

_Cas,_

_I wanted to tell you so much. That night was perfect, but it was short-lived. There was so much I wanted to tell you. I wanted to kiss you for hours. I wanted to yell at you. I wanted so much, but when you faced me I lost my words. It’s just endless frustration._

_I think I’ve found out that I write because I can’t talk to people. I just...can’t. I don’t know what it is. Hell, I couldn’t even talk to you. But I will soon, right?_

_These unsent letters- or whatever you want to call them- are just...making up for everything I lost. Cause I lost you. And all my poems and writing are sappy. Seems like some emo kid gone haywire. It doesn’t matter since nobody really sees them anyway. At least not since Michael took it._

_Cas. Don’t forget about me this summer._

 

***

 

There were two days until summer started. Dean wouldn’t see Cas anymore. He hadn’t talked to him for a few days since he was tipsy and showed up on Cas’ lawn. Panic started to set in as he felt Cas slipping through his fingers. He hoped for some crazy miracle to happen, but he knew it wouldn’t happen.

He was sick and tired of it. Everyone was so hyped up and excited for summer, planning what they’d do. It felt like a stab every time someone mentioned it. Every plan Dean made with Cas, the image of the sun on his cheeks, the way they’d run around in shorts and tank tops with the sweltering Colorado sun. But that no longer existed. And it never would.

He always thought he’d take so little time to get over a breakup, but it was never really a breakup. Cas never really left. Because something people misunderstood so often about Dean was that he just plain didn’t care, but Cas became a part of him. He’d always live, he’d always be his love inside of his heart. It felt so wrong and abnormal to be without him- to not even be able to see him.

But’s what the worst that could happen? He could go and kiss Cas in front of his parents. He’d never hurt him, so what could they do? It was such a big world.

Dean sighed. It wasn’t gonna happen.

He was standing on the porch of his house, smoking a cigarette. Sam had complained about the smoke fumes and how gross they smelled to him. But Dean kept smoking because he didn’t care. Now he just kept it outside.

The day was warm with the sun in the sky. He wore a black t-shirt, which took some time to convince himself to do since he still had scars from self-harming. He stopped since the school assessed him for suicide, and since he promised Cas that he’d stop.

Dean took a drag and exhaled the smoke, watching it slowly fade to nothing. He was about to put the cigarette to his lips again when his phone started vibrating. Dean sighed and lightly tapped his cigarette before pulling his phone out. The screen had the picture of his dad’s face from many years ago, taken from a photograph.

He answered. “Hey, dad.”

“Hey, Dean,” his father greeted monotonously. “How’s it going over there?”

“Just fine,” Dean answered blankly.

“Is summer starting soon?” John asked.

Dean sighed before changing his tone to sound more informative. “Yes.”

“Well, I got some news. You’re not gonna like it,” John warned.

Dean shook his head. There’s nothing that could be worse. He’s already hit rock bottom. “Okay,” he responded, “what is it?”

“Well...you know Grandma? Not on your mom’s side, but Grandma Millie?” John inquired, a heaviness in his voice.

“What about her?” Dean questioned.

He heard a sad sigh from John. “She’s, uh...she’s got COPD.” His voice sounded shaky. Was there a bad connection? Was he...crying?

Dean shook his head to himself in confusion. “What is that?”

“It’s a...a lung disease. She can’t, uh...breathe very well. Apparently, she’s approaching the final stage. They...they didn’t diagnose her earlier,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Dean’s heart dropped. “So...what does that mean?”

“Means she doesn’t have much time left. Doctors are giving her six months,” John replied, a hint of frustration in his voice. “She can still talk and eat and stuff, but she can’t go outside the house. Can’t breathe without an oxygen concentrator.”

“I’m...sorry,” Dean said.

“It’s fine. But...well, I was thinking of taking you and Sam down to Florida to see her over the summer,” John offered.

“Yeah, Sam...he’d like that.” There was a pause for a few seconds. “Do you...know when you’ll take us?”

“Well, I was thinking of taking you at different times. One on the second ‘til the eighth, other from the eleventh to the eighteenth,” John explained. “You two need to discuss it.”

“Okay,” Dean responded. “I’ll, uh...I’ll talk to him about it.”

John didn’t speak for a moment. “Well...give me a call when you’ve figured it out. I’d like to hear from you by Friday.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean responded.

“Alright. Talk to you then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Dean hung up. His cigarette was still burning. He threw it on the ground and stomped it out, probably harder than necessary.

 

***

Sam was different than Dean in a lot of ways. Dean wondered where Sam got his face from since he didn’t look much like either of his parents. But he noticed another kind of difference when he told him the news about his grandmother. His response was emotion- to cry, and then sort it out. Dean didn’t understand it. He hated crying; he couldn’t stand it when he was by himself, let alone around other people.

“Come on, Sammy, pull it together,” Dean ordered in a gentle voice.

“I’m fine, I’m...I just wish I could see her more,” Sam sniffed.

“Well, you’re getting time with her now. Okay? So stop, it just...it happens. It’s a part of life. It sucks, but you gotta pull through, man,” Dean persuaded.

“Right, like you’d know anything about pulling through,” Sam hissed.

Dean shook his head, a glare forming on his face. “Yeah, well, tell me when you’re done. We gotta talk.” He walked off.

Sam sat at the table for a few minutes, trying to gather his emotion. He didn’t like the way Dean reacted, but he knew that Dean didn’t know any better. He shook himself back to reality after a few minutes, wiping his eyes clean of his last few tears. “Dean!” he called.

Dean momentarily came back to the table and sat across from Sam, his hands folded together. “You good?” he questioned.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, let’s just figure this out.”

“Okay. So you can either stay for a week or six days,” Dean offered. “But I’m gonna go ahead and give you a week.”

Sam looked up to Dean. “Are you sure?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I get to go sooner, you get to go longer. We both win.”

Sam nodded. “When do I go?”

“The, uh...the eleventh. I’m going on the second,” Dean claimed.

“So...what do I need? Are we gonna do anything that I need money for?” Sam asked.

“Slow your roll, kid,” Dean said. “Well, do you remember being in Florida?”

Sam shook his head. “I mean...I vaguely remember when we visited when I was seven.”

“Go get some paper and a pen, Sammy,” Dean commanded.

As Sam got up and disappeared to his room to find paper, Dean was left to brainstorm. Before his father decided they were old enough to live alone, Sam and Dean lived in Florida for a few years. Both were born there in Gainesville, which was where most of their relatives- including their grandparents- lived. John, Sam, and Dean left when their mother died. Dean was six. They had moved around a lot since, but Dean remembered Florida vividly. He missed the place, but that didn’t matter anyway.

Sam threw paper in front of him, followed by a pen. “Here.”

Dean took the pen in his hand. “Okay, so...clothes and shoes. But no flannel, no jeans, no jackets. And bring flip-flops or something. You don’t wanna mess with Florida in the summer.”

Sam laughed. “You don’t wanna mess with Florida, period.”

Dean chuckled. “Right,” he agreed. “Anyway...ooh, swim trunks. That’s a definite.”

“Isn’t their house inland?” Sam questioned.

“Sammy, it’s not a trip to Florida without at least a pool. You’ll probably go to the beach anyway,” Dean insisted.

Sam shrugged and chuckled. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, then we need sunscreen and sunglasses. Then a toothbrush, toothpaste...the like.”

“Put a camera on the list,” Sam told him. “Both Canon and Polaroid.”

Dean looked up to Sam, eyebrows furrowed. “You have a camera? And a Polaroid camera at that?”

“Well...yeah,” Sam admitted.

“Dude, could you be more gay?” Dean teased.

Sam scoffed. “Dean, you’re the gay one,” he proclaimed with a mischievous smile.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. So you need your camera stuff, both Polaroid and the other one. And your phone.”

Sam nodded. “I think that’s it.”

“Bug spray. You’re in the south,” Dean told him and wrote the last bullet point for it. He slid the list over to Sam. “Now you know what to pack.”

Sam took the paper and skimmed it. “Thanks.”

Dean nodded. He got up from the table, leaving Sam alone again.


	10. Summer Sun on My Cheeks

**Summer Sun on My Cheeks**

 

_May 25th_

 

_For once I’m not writing letters_

_Letters with words. Letters with sentences._

_I could take the words I write_

_Letters in pen. Letters with emotion._

_And I could crumple them-_

_The letters with words. Letters with nothing._

 

***

The kids at school grew antsier and antsier. Friday was a half-day and the last day of school. Everyone seemed to have a smile on their face. The seniors had that day off- their summer started a day early. Dean finally had something to look forward to. He was going to Florida. It might’ve been for a sad reason, but his grandmother was still alive. She was still okay, even if she didn’t have much time left.

Dean was in passing period when he was quickly pulled to the side. He turned his head and, to his surprise, saw Cas quickly leading him to the bathroom. He pulled Dean into a stall.

Cas was nearly hyperventilating. “It’s the last day, they don’t care how late I am,” he breathed. His face was tense and serious.

Dean put a hand on Cas’ face. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“Dean, God, I-” he stammered, blinking rapidly and looking from side to side.

“Calm down, baby,” Dean soothed, bringing Cas’ head to lay on his shoulder. He kept his hand tangled in Cas’ hair. He felt his breathing begin to slow and his eyes closed. “You good?”

Cas nodded. He kept one hand glued to Dean’s side and the other holding Dean’s free hand. “I shouldn’t be here,” he stated.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Dean sighed. “But you’re here.”

“My parents are gonna kill me. I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this,” Cas shook his head. “Dean, what if they know I’m with you? The teachers- they all know to report it if I’m with you.”

"Then why did you do this?" Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. "Because it's the last day and I'm making a dumb decision. And I...it's you. It's just you." He tensed his jaw. "You...this isn't your fault. But dammit, Dean, I can't just...you shouldn't have shown up the other night. You were drunk and you weren't thinking, but you can't do that to me. I can't...I had to tell myself no so many times. And you messed up my streak."

Dean sighed. He wasn't gonna answer to that, there were no words to fill in that gap. “Well, you said it yourself. It’s the last day, they don’t care. Plus, for all they know, I ditched for the rest of the day,” he persuaded.

“Yeah, but so did I,” Cas claimed.

“Your parents are gonna kill you,” Dean chuckled.

“Maybe not as long as they think I just threw up or something. They won’t know I’m here. But I can’t do this,” Cas worried.

“Cas,” Dean said to get his attention.

Cas looked up, head still resting on Dean’s shoulder.

“You gotta live life for you. Okay? You’re not a perfect little angel like everyone thinks you are,” Dean told him.

“You don’t understand. This is my world you’re talking about. I don’t- I can’t, they’ll disown me. They’ll take everything I have. I won’t have friends, I won’t have a phone, I won’t have…” he choked up. “I won’t have a family. And yeah, they don’t know what they’re talking about and they don't know you, but I still love them. If I fight them, I won’t have anything but a bad reputation to my name.”

“I know,” Dean sighed as Cas started breathing abnormally again. “Take a breath. You’re okay.”

“How could...Dean,” Cas exhaled sharply, fighting tears. He groaned in frustration. He couldn’t get his words out. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I know.” Dean pursed his lips into a straight line and stared down at the corner of the stall. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Cas sighed heavily. “I can’t talk to you. I can’t. I- I’m sorry.”

“Are you...are you leaving now?” Dean questioned, breath beginning to become shaky.

“Yes,” Cas rose his head and pulled his hands away as he stepped backward. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked down, making sure he wasn’t making any eye contact with Dean. “No. I don’t know,” he cried, his tone erratic and panicked.

Dean gripped Cas’ shoulders. “Come on. Take a breath.”

Cas looked up to Dean, his icy blue eyes meeting Dean’s forest green ones. “I love you,” he breathed. Dean was silent, his face softening. “I love you,” Cas repeated, his voice small and quiet. “Dean.” His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes for a few seconds. “I have to go.”

Dean said nothing as Cas quickly grabbed his backpack and reached for the lock. Dean pulled him into a kiss before his hand reached the door. Cas’ eyes fluttered closed as he melted right into Dean’s lips. They held onto each other like they were all they had in the world. Every movement their lips made always molded perfectly together. Cas pulled away briefly before Dean took him back in. It seemed to last a long time until Cas finally broke the connection. “Dean…” he sighed and shook his head before opening the door and leaving.

Dean could hear his quick footsteps as he left. He pulled his thumb up to his lips. “Dammit,” he muttered.

 

***

It was noon. A sea of teenagers was crowded by the front entrance of the school. Dean somehow made it to the front. They were all counting down, each number roaring with the voices of the high schoolers.

“Sixty!”

Almost there. Sophomore year was actually, really almost over. It was almost unbelievable. Dean was partly proud of himself for actually surviving, but also disappointed because it was such a horrendous year in his eyes. He was nonetheless relieved that it was finally over.

He shook his head and shrugged it all off. He was gonna forget about it for a moment. He was gonna forget about his depression, forget about Cas, and forget about how he had no friends. He heard the number the kids were at- twenty. He sucked in a breath and started joining the kids who were counting down.

“Twenty!” he yelled with the crowd.

That felt liberating.

“Nineteen! Eighteen! Seventeen!” He had a wide grin growing on his face by now. “Sixteen! Fifteen! Fourteen!” His heart raced in excitement. Maybe summer wasn’t gonna be so bad after all. Maybe he’d be able to take a breath, learn to live without Cas. The thought scared him, but how bad could it really be?

“Five, four, three, two, one!” he screamed as the dismissal bell rang. He pushed the doors open and ran out, the warm, dry air hitting him as soon as he was outside.

And maybe summer wasn’t gonna be so bad after all.


	11. A Change of Scenery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm BACK Y'ALL read the end notes for more things

**A Change of Scenery**

 

_ June 1st _

_ Cas, _

_ I started doing what you wanted me to do. I talked to my therapist, and I sucked it up and told him that I was sick of feeling shitty, that I was ready to be happy. It gives me a little hope, knowing I’m probably not gonna do anything stupid now. I at least have Sam to live for, you know? And then my hopes and dreams. I know it sounds cliche, but I’d like to live to the day I graduate, when I have a good job, maybe end up with you again. _

_ I don’t have faith in God, but part of me has faith in you. _

_ Don’t forget about me. I won’t forget about you. _

 

***

 

Dean was throwing clothes and travel items into his backpack. He’d leave at three in the morning to go to the airport for a flight that departed at six. He knew the route- Denver International Airport to Atlanta International Airport. Atlanta International to Gainesville Regional.  He’s gone over it so many times, he was so excited. He could almost forget about Cas.

Oh, right.  _ Cas. _ Dean sighed and tried not to think too much about him. Cas was already a constant dull ache in his heart, so why bring up repressed thoughts that would only make it worse? He silenced himself. He was going back to his hometown- that’s all that mattered.

“Dean!” his father called from outside his room.

“Yeah?” Dean called back.

“You got everything?”

Dean glanced down at his bag. Clothes, shoes, toiletries, Florida weather gear, electronics… “I got everything,” Dean responded enthusiastically.

He looked at one of the pictures on his nightstand, one of Cas. He took it into his hands, sucking in a breath. “Guess it’s about time,” he muttered. He put the picture turned down on the shelf in his closet. 

He swallowed thickly and shook himself off before going back to the bag he packed. He walked out to the living room, placing it by the door where his father’s bag was. He turned around and saw his father at the table.

“So you’re all set?” John asked, his voice calm and soft.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I’m excited.”

John smiled. “I’m glad.” He paused, “Sit down. There’s something I want to talk about with you.”

Dean pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, looking at him attentively.

“So, about Grandma...she loves beaches,” John started. “I know you wanted to go to the beach with her, but she can’t, especially since they’re so inland.”

Dean pursed his lips into a straight line and looked down. “Yeah,” he murmured.

“I was thinking you and me could go to Saint Augustine and get some shells and stuff there. You said you wanted to do something while we were there, so it’s either that or the Florida Museum of Natural History,” he explained.

Dean remembered immediately what he was talking about. He remembered being five and running around in the huge butterfly exhibit, the winged insects landing on his shoulder and his fingers when he held them out. He grinned. “The butterfly museum?”

John chuckled. “Yeah, the butterfly museum.”

Dean nodded and sighed. “Another time. Let’s do the beach this time.”

Saint Augustine. The beach.  _ His childhood _ . It felt so familiar, imagining the hot sand under his feet. The sound of the waves hitting the shore, the scent of seawater and citrus in the air- it was all so right.

He couldn’t wait.

 

***

 

“Dean, we’re here.”

Dean woke up from a nap in his plane seat. The plane was moving slower and slower by the second, signifying they were landing. The feeling of the ground under the moving plane was sudden and shaky, but it felt better than flying nonetheless. He looked out the window. The sky was clear and the grass was green. In the distance, there were thick woods- but not like the kind in Colorado. These were Southern woods, full of bugs, gators, and moss. Then the plane stood to a halt. He was relieved that he’d finally get out of the plane- the airport and the plane’s takeoff wasn’t a good experience for him.

Within minutes, people were lined up to exit the plane. Dean grabbed his carry on backpack and swung it over his shoulder, following his father in the compact line.

They stepped out of the plane and onto the walkway going into the airport, greeted by a rush of warm, humid air. “Welcome to Florida,” Dean said jokingly.

John chuckled.

Within a half hour of checking out of the Gainesville Regional Airport and grabbing a quick breakfast, they were in a rental car, relieved by the cool air. 

“How long is it gonna be until we’re there?” Dean asked.

“Maybe thirty minutes,” John responded.

Dean kept his gaze attentive to the scenery outside of the car, watching the flat Floridian meadows quickly turn into lush, vibrant green woods as they drove further into the country. Moss hung lazily from trees filled with bugs and spiderwebs. Scrub palmettos coated the ground. The roads became long and houses became scattered before they stopped by an open gate leading to a gravel road surrounded by the forest. The uneven ground had the car shaking as the one-story red house came into view. Dean quickly spotted Henry, his grandfather, standing out on the slightly run-down porch before feeling the car pull into the dirt driveway and stop.

Dean glanced at his father, almost like an expectant child. John nodded approvingly, which had him unbuckle and walk out the car to greet his grandfather with a wide grin. He was pulled into a hug as soon as he was in arm’s length from his grandfather.

“Dean, look at you! Grown taller, I see,” Henry said once Dean was disconnected from his arms. 

Dean responded with a nod and a chuckle. “You should see Sam.”

John emerged from the car with two large backpacks. “Dad,” he greeted Henry with a nod and a smile. He set down the backpacks in front of the door to hug his father.

After the standard greeting, Dean opened the door to see his grandmother, Millie, reading a book at the dining room table. There was a long, transparent cord stemming from an oxygen concentrator to his grandmother’s nose. John approached her first. Her long, platinum hair was the only visible thing until she turned her head to look up at John with a surprised expression.

“John!” she breathed, a grin gracing her features. She stood up and wrapped her arms around John.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama,” John beamed.

Millie pulled away from the hug before spotting Dean. Tears brimmed her eyes as her smile expanded. “Dean, you’re here too?” 

Dean grinned. “Yeah,” he nodded as his grandmother pulled him into a hug. She was slightly shorter than him and much skinnier than the last time he’d seen her. He noticed how frail and pale she had gotten as she gradually pulled away. She took in the sight of Dean, more grown up and mature than last time he visited.

“You’ve gotten handsome. I bet all the ladies love you!” she exclaimed.

Dean chuckled. “You could say that.”

 

***

 

The days were tranquil. The rain would pour every afternoon, the sky dark and sounds of rainfall soothing. Dean found he enjoyed sitting on the porch as rain pitter-pattered against everything it could hit.

He heard the door open behind him and he turned his head, a cigarette in his hand.

Millie stepped onto the wet tiles of the porch and eyed the cigarette. “Put that out,” she said as she sat down behind him.

Dean sighed with a nod and dropped his cigarette before stomping it out. “Better?”

His grandmother nodded. “You shouldn’t be smoking those,” she advised. “You’ll end up like me.”

Dean shrugged.

"You like the rain?" Millie asked.

Dean nodded with the ghost of a smile. "Yeah, it's really nice. We don't get as much rain as you in Colorado."

Millie raised her eyebrows affirmatively. "Rain is nice," she agreed before letting out a long sigh. “I know your life is...a more difficult path than most,” she began. She reached out her hand to feel the rain against her skin. She kept her gaze on her hand as she continued. “When your daddy was younger, we didn’t have a lot of money. We lived in a poor neighborhood and he went to a...more unsafe school. He started doing all kinds of things I couldn’t control.” She brought back her hand and shook off the water.

Dean looked at her attentively, lips pursed.

“I think the reason why he has the anger he has…” she paused for a moment. “His childhood was hard. Henry was hard on him. It’s just something that he grew up with. We loved him. I tried my best.”

Dean shifted and looked at the bush in front of him. “I know. It’s fine,” he insisted. “He’s here now, and we’re all fed and alive.”

Millie nodded. “I know I tried. I’m more at peace since I’m...I don’t have too much time left.” She looked out into the storm quietly. Dean didn't respond. She sat with him for a long time, silently observing the sight and sounds of rain before it cleared. 

She left to go back into the house before Dean came inside.

“Wanna play some pool?” John asked once he was back inside.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, sure. Uh, Dad, when will we, uh...when will we go to the beach?”

John looked down in thought. “Either tomorrow or the next day. Go ask Grandma if that sounds okay.”

“It is,” Millie called from the table. “And I’ll play with whoever wins your game of pool.”

Dean chuckled. “Will do. I think you’ll be playing me.”

John playfully punched his arm. “You wanna make a bet on that?”

 

***

 

Five o’clock in the morning. It was still dark out. Dean woke up to being shaken by John.

“What?” he croaked, half-asleep.

“Wake up."

Why now? It was too early for this.

But then again, it must have been important.

 

"You said you wanted to go to the beach. Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi dudes i was taking a break because school is terrible. anyway. i have the whole summer to myself, basically, except for a few things i'm in. i'll just kinda update...whenever?  
> also i really appreciate those of y'all for sticking around and i'll try to reply to comments as much as possible. i really appreciate the support.


	12. Seashells

**Seashells**

 

_Cas,_

_ I'm going to the beach soon. The one in Saint Augustine- I used to go there when I was little. It's the oldest town in Florida, I think maybe in America too. It's a nice little town. Seems like it would be your style. _

_  know a lot about you, even your darkest secrets. But it's funny that I never learned your favorite kind of place, like the beach or forests.  _

 

***

“What?”

“The beach. Did you not hear me when I said early?”

Dean was woken by the claim of going to the beach. “I thought it was tomorrow,” he groaned.

John flipped up the light switch and the room was illuminated. “No. It’s today. So...get up and let’s get going.”

Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, squinting at the sudden brightness. He opened his phone to check the time. “Five in the morning. Awesome,” he muttered. He looked down at his backpack and sighed.

After a moment of trying to wake up, Dean reached down to his backpack and dug through, locating his swim trunks, sunscreen, and flip-flops. He stood up and replaced his sweatpants with his swim trunks before slipping on his flip-flops. He then took the sunscreen in his hand and walked out of the room.

John gave Dean a drawstring bag with two towels in it. “Put your sunscreen in there,” he ordered. “Then go get a plastic bag from under the kitchen sink.”

Dean nodded, putting sunscreen in the drawstring bag. “A plastic bag?” he questioned, earning a nod from John. “Why?”

“You’re gonna collect shells for Grandma,” John responded.

“Oh. Right. I...knew that,” Dean murmured. He swung the drawstring bag over his shoulder and briskly walked to the kitchen, searching the cabinet under the sink for a plastic bag. Once he found one, he brought it to his father, who was standing by the front door.

“Ready?” John asked.

Dean nodded. “Yes.”

The two walked out to Henry’s old pickup truck. It was dark aside from the light on the porch and from inside. There was a drizzle from the clouds above them that drummed on the roof of the truck.

“Didn’t know the weather would be so bad,” John stated, almost apologetically. “Maybe it’ll stop raining once we’re there.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s okay. I like the rain,” he assured.

The hour-long drive was filled with quiet rock music accompanied by varying volumes of rain against the car. Dean found himself tapping along to some songs on the radio as he looked out, watching the sky slowly change from a dark twilight to a stormy gray.

"You want something from Dunkin'?" John asked when Dean began to snooze.

Dean opened his eyes. "Dunkin'...Dunkin' Doughnuts?" he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah," John affirmed.

"Oh. Sure. I'll have hashbrowns," Dean informed.

"Do you want a bag of donut holes, too?" John asked.

Dean grinned. "Yeah."

John glanced down at his phone, where the GPS was leading him to Dunkin' Doughnuts. The building came into view and John pulled into the drive-through.

Dean had dozed off again when he was awakened with a gentle push and the scent of food. He reached for the small bag of hashbrowns, smiling to himself once he opened it.

  As he ate his food, they drove closer and closer to Saint Augustine until they approached the sign welcoming them to the small town, stating just under the name, “America’s Oldest City.” It looked like it, too- vintage-looking, some places even antique. 

The first few buildings were washed-out small houses, mostly covered in green overgrowth. As they drove on, the buildings became cleaner and but still slightly worn. Dean took the sights in; even the oldest and most ragged houses and buildings were aesthetically pleasing.

After crossing a couple of bridges and turning a few avenues, John stopped in a tiny parking lot between two small buildings and pulled his key out from the ignition.

“Beach is a short walk from here,” John stated, opening his door.

Dean nodded before exiting the car. He was greeted by the sea breeze- the fresh smell of sea musk, saltwater, and the rain in the air. He inhaled the sweet scent before grabbing the drawstring bag and closing the car door. John was waiting for him, a cigarette in his mouth. He motioned to Dean, “This way.”

The two walked along the damp sidewalk, rain still sprinkling over it. It trailed to stairs going up to a petite surf shop. Dean and John walked right past it, though, and approached the second set of stairs descending onto the beach.

There it was. The beach was so beautiful, and that’s all Dean could think of for a moment. Sure, Colorado was nice, but it was nothing near as perfect as the Saint Augustine beach.

The blue-tinted waters reflected the range of periwinkles and greys from the sky. Always gentle rolling back and forth, the waves were layered on top of each other, their ends defined in sea foam. The hue of the sand ranged from a dull sunkissed tan to a dark, soaked beige. Warm sea mist carried itself and settled minuscule fragments of seawater droplets onto Dean’s face.

The moment had just begun, but as Dean walked down the steps following his father, he couldn’t think of much besides how breathtaking everything was. His feet were greeted by the soft sand under his flip-flops. He grinned and ran out to the wetter sand, which was filled with tiny, broken shells. His flip-flops were kicked off and he set his drawstring bag down. The sea seemed to beckon to him, with every increasing hiss of the incoming waves as the rain gently thumped against the sand.

That was his favorite sound, he decided.

He rolled off his shirt and stuffed it into the drawstring bag. John had taken off his boots and jacket. Dean looked out to the shoreline, beginning to walk with John towards it. The shell fragments under his feet poked and stung at his feet, but he didn’t mind. Everything was too perfect to worry about that. He didn’t talk much, he was filled with laughter and happiness. It was such a pure, untouched feeling. He forgot all about everything going on with Cas, he forgot about his depression, and every suicidal thought he ever had seemed to disappear. None of that mattered, only the waves did.

Once he felt the warm, Atlantic seawater rushing up to his feet, he chuckled naively and ran farther into the water. As the water came up to his knees, each wave going to the shore was a little jolt against his legs. Dean glanced back at John, who was smiling peacefully at him.

After spending time in the water, Dean ran back up to shore to collect seashells. He grabbed the plastic bag and paced the shoreline, finding shells of different shapes and sizes from faded orange scallop shells to iridescent black mussel shells.

He could do that all day.

 

***

 

The day seemed to end much too quickly. Dean savored the feeling, though. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel outright depressed or anxious. He didn’t have the sudden urges to drink or constantly smoke a cigarette.

He took out his notebook the next afternoon as he sat on the porch. Maybe it was time to get back to writing poetry instead of writing letters to Cas he’d never send.

 

_ Cas, _

_ I went to the beach. It was the best day I think I’ve ever experienced so far. But I’m going to write about it in poetry instead of letters. I think it’s time to let you go for a while. _

_ I know, deep down, I’m more emotional than a lot of other people, and I never liked that. I think it’s one of those secrets you don’t tell most people. But I also am starting to think that maybe it’s not a complete weakness. Maybe it gives me strength, passion, and something to do. I need to be a man to take care of things, especially for Sam, but...I don’t know, maybe there’s some kind of balance all those new-age hippies keep talking about. _

_ I know you’ll be there one day. I know it. So I’m gonna let you go now. _

Dean sighed and bit his lip. He was nervous, but he knew it was time to let go.

“What are you writing?” Millie asked as she stepped out onto the porch.

Dean closed his notebook. “Nothing.”

“Alright.” Millie sat in the chair beside Dean.

The two sat in silence for a moment before Millie began to speak with a gentle voice.

“You know, I think that writing is good for you,” she began. Dean turned his head to look at her as she continued. “You know, it’s okay to have feelings. You have a better understanding of the world. You’re...hiding your maturity, that old-soul part of you. Because I see it in you, deep down.”

Dean nodded and paused to shift and clear his throat. “I was...writing a letter.”

“Who was it to?” Millie asked.

“A…” he sighed, “I can’t believe I’m actually telling someone this aside from Lisa.”

“You can tell me or not, it’s okay,” she assured. She smiled. “I won’t tell your father if you don’t want me to.”

Dean chuckled dryly. “That would be great,” he said. He fidgeted with his fingers for a moment. “It’s...it’s to a boy.”

Millie raised her eyebrows, slightly surprised. “Is this boy a friend or something more?”

“Something...uh...more,” Dean stammered.

“Oh. That’s okay, you can love whoever you want to, as long as they don’t hurt you. What’s his name?” Millie asked.

Dean smiled. “Castiel, but everyone calls him Cas. We aren’t allowed to talk to each other anymore, but we used to be real close.” It felt so nice to finally talk to someone about it.

“What happened?” Millie questioned.

“Well, I...his parents didn’t like me ‘cause I had a lot of...differences, aside from...uh...well, being with their son.” He swallowed thickly and glanced up at his grandmother, who placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “They’re, uh...they’re conservative about pretty much everything, so...they kinda banned me from even looking his direction,” he explained.

Millie nodded. “That’s some bad parenting there. This wasn’t your fault.”

Dean let out a small scoff. “I would disagree on that, but yeah, his parents aren’t that nice.”

“Why would you disagree?” Millie asked.

“I just...was going through a tough spot and...I think I went too deep,” he admitted through pauses and stutters.

“That’s not your fault. You just didn’t know what to do,” Millie affirmed.

Dean nodded. They were peacefully quiet for a moment.

“Do you love him?” Millie inquired with a soft voice, out of the blue.

Dean sucked in a long breath. “Yeah.”

“And does he love you?”

Dean nodded.

“Then you know he’ll come back,” Millie told him before Henry distantly called to say that dinner was ready.

They both stood up. Before Millie could open the door, Dean interrupted her. 

“Uh, Grandma- please don’t tell my dad,” he said in a hushed voice.

“I won’t, sweetheart. I know you’re not used to being vulnerable, so I’m glad you opened up.” She gave him a smile and pulled him into a hug. “Just be careful with your dad. Rainbows aren’t really his thing,” she joked.

Dean laughed. “I could tell. His wardrobe says enough.”

Millie and Dean walked back inside to eat dinner, keeping Dean’s secret hidden.

 

***

 

Dean left Florida on a Wednesday afternoon. The sky was clear and the day was hot.

He was about to walk out the door with his backpack before Millie called for him. He turned back, his face expectant for a response.

“Come in here,” Millie motioned to the master bedroom.

Dean glanced at John. “One second, Grandma needs me,” he informed before walking to the master bedroom.

Millie ambled to the vanity. “You gave me a bag of shells, so I could only return the favor,” she offered, taking a large, transparent-looking fabric pouch full of shells into her hand. “These are colorful ones. And they’re natural.” She held the pouch out to Dean.

He took the pouch and looked up to Millie. “Are you sure?”

Millie nodded. “Keep them.”

Dean nodded. “Well, I’ll...see you next time,” he said.

Millie chuckled. “Bye, Dean.” She pulled him into a final hug. He swallowed back any tears threatening to spill.

“I love you.”

“I…” his voice croaked. “I love you too, Grandma.”

Colorado was dry and cold once he got back that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was not an easy chapter to write haha
> 
> go check out my tumblr my @ is styggtroll


	13. Letting Go

**Letting Go**

 

Dean was in his therapist’s office as he fidgeted with a Rubik’s cube. Eric, his therapist, was sitting in his desk with a notepad and a pen.

“So what are some good things that happened since the last time I saw you?” Eric asked the usual opening question.

“I went to Florida,” Dean said. “There’s a really nice beach in Saint Augustine that I went to.”

“That’s good. Was it kind of like a breath of fresh air?” Eric questioned.

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“Awesome. Were there any bad things since we last met?”

Dean thought in silence for a few seconds. “No, not really.”

Eric nodded. “Okay, that’s good. Any thoughts of suicide or self-harm?”

Dean shook his head and chuckled. “No. I was actually really happy. I haven’t laughed as hard as I did there in years.”

“That’s awesome. I’m really proud of you,” Eric congratulated.

Dean grinned. “Thanks.” He paused. “I told my grandma about Cas.”

“You told your grandma about Cas?” Eric repeated.

“Yeah. She kinda said being vulnerable was good for me,” he shrugged. “And she didn’t tell my dad.”

Eric chuckled. “That’s probably a good thing. How did you feel after you told her?”

“Scared, I guess. I didn’t want her to tell my dad.”

“But she didn’t, right?”

Dean nodded. “She didn’t.”

“I’m really glad you took that step. You don’t open up easily, especially about Cas,” Eric praised.

“Thanks. I just- I think it’s time to...let him go.”

Eric nodded. “Okay. I think that’s good.”

“Grandma...she told me something about him. She asked if I love him and if he loved me, and I said yes.” Dean stopped talking for a moment as Eric patiently waited for him to continue. “Then she...she said that if we loved each other, then we’d end up together anyway.”

“I think that’s good advice,” Eric agreed.

“Yeah.”

 

***

 

The weeks of summer passed, hot and sunny, with occasional rain in the afternoons. Sam went to Florida for a week and came back with too many polaroids than Dean could handle.

The morning of the twentieth, Sam was up early making eggs and bacon. The window was open to substitute for the broken air conditioning.

Dean wandered downstairs. “I was driven by the tempting scent of food, especially bacon,” he announced in a dramatic, heroic voice. “The pig must be ready for consumption!”

Sam shook his head as he turned the stove off and put the last pieces of cooked bacon on a paper plate. “Good morning to everyone except you,” he sighed.

“I would make a great actor,” Dean claimed.

“I guess,” Sam shrugged. 

“Did you take your meds?” Dean asked, his voice slightly more serious.

“Yeah, Mom, I did,” Sam answered, earning a mocking repetition of his response from Dean. He sighed, made his platter of food, and sat down with a little bag. He emptied it, revealing about fifty-something Polaroids.

“Nerd,” Dean teased once he was at the table with his food, looking through the pictures of all kinds of random things.

“You’re the one that can sing every Led Zeppelin song verbatim,” Sam retorted.

“Yeah, ‘cause Led Zeppelin is cool,” Dean argued.

“Sure, in the seventies,” Sam muttered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He pushed the Polaroids back to Sam.

“Oh, Dean, there’s a pride parade in Denver in a couple of days,” Sam informed.

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Why do I need to know this?”

“Just ‘cause...well, I thought that would be your thing,” Sam shrugged.

“No. I’m not going alone, and marching around in make-up and rainbows isn’t my thing,” Dean stated.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll go with you, some of my friends are going,” Sam insisted.

Dean shot him a glare. “Dude, that’s weird. I’m not gonna get set up for people asking if we’re a couple.”

Sam scoffed. “Whatever you say, I guess.”

“I mean it! You don’t look like me at all! Nobody would know that we’re brothers, and that’s just weird,” Dean said.

“Fine, fine,” Sam chuckled. “Remember that one time at the farmer’s market-”

“This is where you shut your piehole right now,” Dean interrupted.

Sam laughed. “Sorry to hurt your very fragile masculinity.”

Dean glared. “Shut up!”

Sam finished up his food and started sorting his Polaroids into neat, even piles. “I think I’ll hang up the Polaroids on a string or something. Like those people from Instagram or something.”

Dean scoffed, his mouth full of bacon. “That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it is.” He finished sorting his polaroids. “I think I’m gonna run over to Kevin’s later. He’s having a party.”

“Don’t get drunk,” Dean advised.

“You’re one to talk,” Sam scoffed.

Dean shot him a dirty look. “Shut up.”

“What?” Sam walked to the kitchen sink to clean off his dishes. He came back with something in his hands. “Gabe ran by while you were gone a few weeks ago. I forgot to tell you.”

Dean looked up, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. “Gabe- like, the Novak?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Castiel’s brother. What happened between you two anyway? Didn’t you guys break up? You haven’t talked since...well, you know.”

Dean sighed. “I thought you knew. You’re smart.” He paused. “What did Gabe have?”

Sam slid a little sticker with a folded-up note. “He said, ‘don’t tell Cas.’ But he thought that you should have these.”

Dean observed the brightly colored sticker, reading “LOVE ALWAYS WINS.” He unfolded the note and read it.

 

_ Hey Dean! _

_ This is from Gabe. I would probably be dead and disowned for showing up here, but I’m almost an adult anyway, so I guess that doesn’t matter. Just don’t tell ;) _

_ So Cas is doing okay, you should probably know that. I asked if he had a crush on anyone and he gave me the glare. You know, THE glare. So I think he’s still into you. Sorry about my parents and the shit way they dealt with you. They think I’m a good Christian boy that does what everyone else does. Well, jokes on them. But Castiel isn’t like he was when he was with you anymore. He was more himself with you, happier, even. I think there’s a little artist inside of him that he’s not letting out, mostly because our parents want him to be “a productive member of society.” So I hope things end up working out between you two, despite how finite my parents have made the barriers between you two.  _

_ Anyway, half of us Novaks love you! _

 

“Oh,” Dean hummed. “Well, thanks for that, Sam.”

“Sure. You didn’t answer my question,” he prodded.

Dean glared. “His parents hate my guts. That’s that.”

“So are you guys like...Romeo and Juliet?” Sam asked.

“No, we can’t talk. At all,” Dean stated bluntly. “Haven’t talked since the incident.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Sam murmured.

Dean shrugged. “It’s fine.” He took the note and the sticker before retreating to his room.

Sam sighed, looking at the empty, uncleaned plate Dean left for him. He sighed, picking it up and bringing it to the sink.

 

***

 

Dean twiddled with the pencil in his hand. He wasn’t going to write about Cas. It was so strange, writing about things aside from Cas and depression.

He’d write about Cas. But this time, it would be different.

 

_ Isn’t love just wild? _

_ Take a ride with me. _

_ All you have to do is say hello, and I’ll start from scratch. _

_ I know about how much I’ve hurt you, wasn’t it an unlucky Friday the 13th? _

_ All your mind will change, so will mine, in our hearts. _

_ Sunset skies. _

_ Lasts so little time. _

_ You had my world in your hands and it slipped through your fingers. _

_ But I know about how much I’ve hurt you and from that day I was chained. _

_ I never got the chance for all your hopes. _

 

_ But I feel okay with change, for now. _

_ There’s a light in my veins and it brings me color. _

_ And I’ve learned a lot- _

_ That forgetting and moving on are two different things. We didn’t have control and that’s just the way it happened. _

_ I’m happy with time leading the way. _

 

Despite how nerve-racking and bittersweet it was, a new feeling began to overtake Dean’s mind. 

He was letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving you guys all these chapters because I'm making up for the time that I was on hiatus.
> 
> ...
> 
> actually just kidding I'm giving you guys all these chapters because I had a random creativity spike at 3 AM  
> thanks for reading! :D


	14. A Different Kind of Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am alive everyone!! i just had a very long writer's block i'm sorry.

**A Different Kind of Human**

 

_ November 16th _

 

_ I can’t just drop everything when I feel okay _

_ You don’t understand, _

_ I can’t just drop everything once I have built myself up _

_ I’ve realized that nothing is as it seems _

 

_ And I know I don’t want to do this but _

_ At least now I know what to do. _

 

***

 

The start of school and normal life in August was a strange adjustment for Dean. It wasn’t hard or emotional, it was more awkward and odd. Castiel wasn’t constantly in his mind, and seeing him passing by no longer stung at him, but it was a new feeling to be okay with the separation. For once, he knew how to actually deal with life.

His grandmother’s health continued to slowly decline. He called her as often as he could, noticing how each time he or Sam would call her, her speech would become slower and make less sense.

As the summer turned into fall, everything died. Millie was no different.

By September, she sounded slightly drunk whenever she spoke. Her breath was airy and there were many pauses in the midst of her sentences. It became hard for her to walk across a room.

By October, she could no longer speak in full sentences- at least none that made full sense. Her speech was out of breath and slow. Phrases she meant to say were replaced by random words. What she said and what she meant was nearly always lost in translation. 

In November, she was hallucinating and speaking to her dead parents, a telltale sign that time was running out. Dean would never know if it was because of the lack of oxygen in her brain or if it was the spirit world guiding her to the other side. Her body became drastically weaker, not being able to control bowel movements or simply walk two feet without a cane.

The Winchesters were constantly on edge. John was staying with Sam and Dean as the anxiety reached its peak, as if they were holding their breath in silence. It was always a matter of “any day now, it could happen.”

It seemed like every night Dean was having dreams about Millie. The night of the 15th he dreamt he was at his grandparent’s house. It was a sunny day, not too hot or cold, and he was combing her hair before she suddenly waved goodbye and walked peacefully out the front door with a smile. She didn’t return for the remainder of his dream.

Millie Winchester died early in the morning on November 16th. It was the last day of school before Thanksgiving break.

Dean would never forget the day; he woke up to muffled yelling and crying in utter pain and agony. He opened his eyes and ambled to the door of his room to peak out, taking note of his surroundings. He crept to Sam’s room, whose door was evidently locked, and whispered, “Sam, it’s me.” The lock clicked open to reveal a wide-awake Sam.

“It’s five in the morning, dammit, and you’re…” Dean skimmed him up and down, his scowl quickly turning into a face of confusion. “Wait, you’re not crying?”

“Neither are you,” Sam stated, bewildered. His face went soft. Dean immediately recognized the look, as if the two had both telepathically received the same message.

They both stayed in Sam’s room for the remainder of the hour. It didn’t seem right to talk, and most of what they did was quiet, aside from light foot tapping and occasional sighs. The almost unnatural crying gradually died down when they finally opened the door and walked downstairs, assessing every inch their eyes could see. John was quietly sitting at the table, his face in his hands and two bowls of oatmeal in front of him.

Sam silently pulled out a chair beside him and sat looking downwards with his hands folded, anxiously waiting for any kind of response.

John pulled his face out of his hands, revealing red-tainted eyes with dark circles under them. “You boys don’t have to go to school today if you don’t want to,” he murmured in a blank voice. “Oatmeal’s for you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Sam whispered, dragging one bowl towards him.

Dean sat in a chair across from Sam. “Dad, why aren’t we going to school?”

Sam shot Dean a worried look.

“I think you know why, Dean,” John muttered, looking up to Dean.

Sam bit his lip, taking in a breath. He hesitantly put a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. Dean sighed, looking down at the table.

“I got the call, at, uh...four or five. Grandma died peacefully in her sleep,” John croaked.

Sam dropped his spoon, tensing up. Dean continued to stare into the table. “I’m sorry,” Dean whispered. Sam stood up and left.

 

***

 

Dean looked up at the dark ceiling of his room. It had been a few days since he received the news of his grandmother’s passing. The sun was down and it was late at night, but he felt himself drifting back into the familiar heaviness he felt before.

But this time, it was different.

It was still heavy, unmotivating, and sad, yet also bittersweet. The urge to hurt himself wasn’t there, which threw him off and confused him. He found himself partly frustrated. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how.

His experiences and his depression, he realized, just made him a different kind of human.

Dean closed his eyes, finding himself too tired to continue to fret.

 

***

 

The smell of bacon and mashed potatoes filled Dean’s nose. He jumped out of his bed with a smile, finding himself energetic and joyful as he ran down the stairs.

He was greeted by Millie, looking strong, healthy, and young. Her hair was long and blonde, complimenting her bright blue eyes. “Dean, where have you been?” she laughed. “Dinner’s almost ready. Set up the table, will you?”

Dean looked at her, confused. “You’re alive?”

Millie smiled. “No. I’m home,” she responded before hugged Dean. “Come with me.” She pulled away, motioning for him to follow as she started walking outside.

The outside scene of trees and houses quickly melted away into a white nothingness as Millie walked further. The two were walking on nothing- not air, but also not on the ground. A tall, shiny mirror suddenly appeared before them. “When you feel lost, look in a mirror. I’m right there with you,” Millie affirmed. “I’m a part of you, in your blood.”

Dean looked back at her before realizing she faded away.

 

And then he woke up crying harder than he had in a very long time.


	15. Sun Against Cold

  _December 8th_

 

_Physically, I could be as silent as a mute person. Mentally, I’m screaming. Just screaming and nothing else. Screaming about how frustrated I am. I can't do anything. I have no control anymore._

_Usually, people think the worst type of crying is when you’re screaming and wailing. They think that’s the most intense it can get._

_Well, they’re wrong. They are so terribly mistaken._

_The most intense type of crying is when you’re crying so hard you can’t make any noise. You can’t breathe. The only movement you make is hitting something, anything, trying to make yourself take a breath. And I can't stop- I can't stop until I pass out. It's that kind of crying that just won't go down easy. I hate it, so much, because a man doesn't cry the way I do. I cry like a heartbroken twelve-year-old schoolgirl. This sucks._

_I don't belong here. They don't understand, and if I try to explain it to them, they'll think I'm a crazy freak. And I've realized that nobody really wants me here- except for Sam. For some reason, I keep doing this over and over, keep wanting to go home. I don't even know what home is anymore._

_The thing is, this thing - whatever it is - is bigger than me. This feeling, these wants, these tendencies, they all make up some big problem. And it shadows over me and burdens me. I don't even know what to do anymore. I thought it was just depression or something, but I don't think it's even possible for it to get this bad._

_I really wanna go home._

 

***

 

Dean looked out the car window, watching the green pine trees pass by as the road continued on and on. They passed so quickly that all there was to see was a quick, green blur in contrast to the baby blue sky. He couldn’t focus on any individual ones, but glancing between the trees and the road at least silenced the thoughts coursing through his head.

 His depression was relapsing and he could feel it.

The road seemed endless. Dean just wanted to be home. He knew that he was close to his breaking point, and if he thought about it more, it would only get worse. Yet he was almost home, he just needed to hold on a little longer.

He found himself turning left to the street where his house was on, frantically pulling into the driveway before quickly getting out of the car and racing upstairs to the bathroom. He felt his eyes getting bloodshot and swollen already. How long was this going to take? He closed the door and locked it before his knees involuntarily buckled.

He found himself on the floor, unable to to anything but heave his chest in a desperate attempt to breathe. He bit down on his lip, probably until it bled, and squeezed his eyes shut. Then, he finally had a successful gasp and air filled his burning, oxygen-starved lungs. Tears began to flow from his eyes to the ground as he sobbed frustratedly. His hand gripped his shirt so tightly that by the time he finally had just enough strength to shift his position, the fabric was wrinkled and tattered.

It was intense, as if he was screaming at the top of his lungs, except no sound was coming out. He began to shake noticeably, sobbing so hard to only be able to shake rather than make any noise- not a whimper, not even a choked sob. So hard, that it’s a struggle to simply breathe in and out, a struggle to move, a struggle to form any coherent thoughts. His body was limp aside from tense shoulder muscles and a clenched jaw, and then there was a sudden gasp for air he desperately held on to until his body forced out the air. It was a slow, vicious cycle. He struggled to inhale again but took in as much air as he could during the short window between his cries.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe” is like a chant his thoughts repeated, like a broken record- an eternal loop. He could barely even think for more than a few seconds, let alone the hundreds of thoughts that clouded up his mind. Somehow, he got a hold of his phone, his hands shaky and uneasy as he opened it. He quickly shoved his earbuds into his ears and turned on the first song he saw in his playlist, not caring which one he chose. It left him as a mess propped up against the wall. It let him breathe, but kept him crying.

All he could think of is how pathetic and weak he must've looked. He wasn't not a cryer, and he never wanted to be, yet here he was, barely functioning under the influence of depression.

Then, a variety of thoughts and memories began to flood his brain, a kaleidoscope of lost emotions among past nostalgia. He wanted to reverse time, go back before he could mess it all up. Except he didn’t mess it all up. He was just there, and maybe his very existence was a curse. He was the common denominator either way. He wanted to go back to the way things were. Back to the basics, back to the beaches, back to where he felt okay. He wanted control over his life, and he did for awhile, but it felt like it got out of hand really fast.

His breath began to regulate. After a moment of keeping his breathing steady with his heartbeat, the song ended. He reached for the counter to pull himself up. He unlocked the door, walked to his room, and rolled into his bed. He tiredly reached for his notebook and a pencil. He wouldn't write about anyone or anything; he wouldn't write about how filled with rage he was. Not this time. This time, he would write about how out of place he felt. He was a pest wherever he went.

He wanted to go home he felt homesick.

And then he realized that home is gone forever.

***

"Uh, hey, Dean, everything okay?" Sam questioned, snapping Dean out of a daze induced by sitting at the dinner table and staring at his empty plate for too long.

"Yeah. Fine," Dean mumbled bluntly, his voice blank and to-the-point.

Sam pursed his lips, sighing as he sat across Dean. "Cut the crap, Dean."

Dean glanced up, throwing a piercing glare at Sam. "Fuck off."

Sam returned the glare. "Dean, come on. You haven't eaten at all today. And you disappeared in the bathroom for an hour earlier," he debated, insistent on digging through the mess of Dean's emotions.

"Look, I was doing so well until October, and now I'm just down," he hissed. "It's like the depression kinda started coming back, and then in November it just started taking control again."

Sam sighed, looking downwards in thought for a few seconds. "What triggered it?"

Dean shrugged carelessly. "Don't know."

"Is it like...a seasonal thing?" Sam probed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

Dean processed the thought carefully. He analyzed his depression's timeline. "Wasn't the first snow last year in January?" he inquired.

"Uh, I think so," Sam responded.

"And the first snow this year was mid-October," Dean stated.

"Yeah. And?" Sam questioned attentively.

"Doesn't the weather affect your brain?" Dean conspired, his voice slightly lighter than usual.

Sam's face softened in realization. "Yeah. So the snow is what gets you?"

Dean nodded quickly. "It has to be. Snow season is basically down season for me," he explained.

"That makes so much sense," Sam exclaimed. "Well, hey, now we know what it is."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. You're right." He was interrupted by a repetitive buzz from a random number calling his phone. He swiped the answer button. "Hello?"

There was a couple seconds of silence.

"Dean?"

" _Cas_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @styggtroll
> 
> i'm sorry my uploads are so infrequent i'm trying i promise


	16. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I'm back. For good now. Yayy!!

_December 9th_

 

_Walk along your trails_

_Leaves have turned all red_

_I have been waiting_

_To realize I don't want to forget_

 

_I want the rain_

_I want to shout_

_Here you come again._

_But I have hope_

_Come the New Year, I'll be singing_

_And dancing, you're in my arms_

_Had a bad start, happy endings_

_When there's a red sunset_

 

****

 

"Dean, it's so nice to hear your voice," responded the voice on the other end.

"You're kidding," Dean laughed. "God, I missed you."

Sam looked at Dean with a face of shock, to which Dean only grinned at.

"Look, I can't talk for long. But December 21st, 7:00 PM- you need to meet me at the flower shop on Mainstreet," Cas instructed.

"Yeah, one sec, let me write that down," Dean halted, scrambling to the kitchen to search for a notepad and any kind of writing utensil. He found a post-it note pad and pencil. "Okay, April 23rd?"

"21st, at 7:00 PM," Cas repeated. "Got it?"

Dean quickly wrote the details down. "Got it. Anything else?"

"No, that's it," Cas stated. "Make sure you have where it is."

Dean bit his lip, checking his notepad. "Okay. Yeah, I have it."

Cas was quiet for a few seconds. "Oh, and Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean responded.

"I love you."

His voice sounded so hopeful and full of sunshine. Dean felt his heart both race and drop simultaneously. "I, uh...I love you too, Cas."

"I-I, um, have to go," Cas said, his voice suddenly hushed. "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Got it," Dean affirmed.

"Okay. Until then, bye," Cas murmured.

"Bye," Dean said, holding to phone up to his ear until he heard the tone signifying that Cas hung up.

He took the post-it note, left with nothing but the faint replaying of Cas' voice in his head that lasted too little time as he silently stood completely still, lost in his thoughts.

 

***

 

"Oh, God, it's happening, all over again," Dean complained, holding the phone up to his ear as he ranted to Lisa.

"Calm down your inner gay panic," Lisa cooed, earning an unseen eye roll from Dean. "Look, you've said it yourself. He's your person. Like, the term bros before hoes doesn't apply, because he's literally both for you. That's how good he is for you."

"He's not my hoe," Dean insisted.

"But you want him to be," Lisa teased with a giggle.

"No, I don't!" Dean debated.

"Suuure," Lisa agreed sarcastically with a chuckle. "But in all seriousness, it keeps working itself out. It's meant to be."

Meant to be.

_Meant to be._

What?

The rest of her sentences seemed to fade out.

Dean wasn't one to believe in fate, but he had to admit, maybe she was right. He grinned at the mere thought, and that simple thought accompanied by hope was more than enough.

"Uh, Dean?" Lisa prodded from the other end. "You alive over there?"

Dean cleared his throat, abruptly bringing himself back to reality. "Yeah, yeah. What?"

"Well, I was telling you about the winter dance," Lisa informed.

"Oh, yeah. Right. I knew that," Dean responded.

He tried to pay attention, and though Lisa might not ever know, there was only one thing on his mind: Cas' bright blue eyes, accentuated with a bright, happy smile.

***

The next few weeks passed ever so slowly. The snow came down every few nights, showering white kisses on top of the Earth. Although it was cold, Dean could deal with it. Somehow it was perfectly cozy.

With Cas in his mind, Dean found it easier to cope. And somehow, he was happy. He wasn't depending on Cas for his happiness and he wasn't constantly thinking about him, but he was a nice little motive to have in his mind. Perhaps soulmates were real, or maybe they weren't, but Cas just completed him in a way that only he'd know and feel.

So on the evening of the 21st, Dean was anxious from the time he got up- which was much earlier than he expected- and the time he got in his car at 6:45. The snow on the streets had turned to slush from the road salt that was sprinkled over it. 

The street lights against the cold, cloudy, grey sky passed quickly as Dean drove his car. The headlights glimmered against the road as the scenery change from suburban houses to petite shops in the downtown area of the town. Dean counted the towns- the coffee shop, the Italian restaurant, the candy store, and there it was. The flower shop, which had never caught his eye until that moment. He searched the side of the street for a place to park before parking in an open spot.

By the time Dean had parked and turned off his car, he was chewing on the inside of his cheek in anticipation. He got out, absentmindedly brisking towards the flower shop. A familiar figure stood by the door. He revealed his face, looking up and showing a bright-looking face with flushed red cheeks, vibrantly blue eyes, and messy dark hair.

"Cas," Dean breathed.

Cas grinned, relaxing his tense shoulders. "Hello, Dean."

Dean’s eyes skimmed him up and down as an undeniable smile formed on his face. “Wow. It’s, uh...it’s been a second. It’s good to see you.”

Cas fiddled with his fingers, giving Dean a small nod. “And you, too. I...I got us a reservation at Leif’s Cafe. Is that okay?”

Dean took in a breath. This was real; it was actually happening. “Yeah, of course,” he assured.

“And- um, I did get you something from the flower shop. I know you’re not one for flowers, but…” Cas handed Dean a poinsettia. “I think it would make for some good decor.”

Dean took it into his hands, taking in the earthy reds of the flower. “Thanks. I’ll put it in my car for now,” he said. “I bet Sam would really appreciate it.”

Cas chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure he would.”

Dean flashed a smile before walking to the car and gently placing the poinsettia in the backseat. He shut the door, turning back to Cas. “Alright. We’re walking to Leif’s, right?”

Cas nodded. “Yes,” he said, beginning to walk by Dean’s side.

The walk was mostly silent aside from the bustling of downtown suburbia and the distant music playing in restaurants. There was occasional smalltalk between Dean and Cas, but it ended once they walked into the warm cafe. Cas checked in and the waitress then led them to a two-person table. She handed them menus with a courteous smile before leaving.

Cas looked up at Dean and cleared his throat. “So, Dean, I’ve noticed you carry yourself much differently now.”

Dean’s eyes met Cas’. “How so?” he inquired.

“You’re more sure of yourself. Less, uh...insecure,” Cas told him.

Dean nodded. “I think you’re right,” he murmured. “It’s...been awhile. A lot’s happened, good and bad. But...I’ve done a lot of work.”

Cas tilted his head to the side, listening closely. “You mean, emotional work?” he asked.

“Yeah. And there’s...there’s a lot more I gotta do, but I’m pretty damn far from where I started, and that’s good enough,” Dean said. “But you...you have no idea what happened.”

Cas sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Dean. The way it happened- I didn’t-”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s okay. It’s just how it happened. Plus, I don’t think I would’ve gotten any help had it not happened,” he insisted. The waitress walked towards them out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry for the wait,” she apologized, flashing a grin. “What can I get you two?”

Dean glanced down at his menu. “I’ll have the, uh...cranberry coffee with the...lefse and apple butter,” he recited from the menu.

Cas chuckled. The waitress turned towards him. “I’ll have the mint tea with the blueberry scones,” he ordered with a kind smile.

The waitress scribbled down their orders. She thanked them before quickly walking off.

Cas looked back at Dean. “Cranberry coffee and lefse. How adventurous of you.”

Dean shrugged. “I just picked something random off the menu.”

“Of course you did,” he laughed before changing his demeanor by shifting his posture so he was upright. “So, Dean, if you don’t mind me asking...what happened that day?”

Dean sucked in a breath. “Well, uh...I tried to kill myself by downing some painkillers and it didn’t work. Went to school, counselors did a suicide assessment on me...I hated life for a while,” he explained bluntly and simply, his voice slightly quieter.

Cas looked down, lips pursed. “I’m...sorry. That’s horrible. And you had to go through that, I...I can’t imagine. And my parents did that. God, they fucking suck,” he mumbled.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, uh...your parents never liked me. What was it like for you?”

Cas looked up in thought and shrugged. “I saw the text and broke down. And...well, my mom wanted to see my phone, and my parents found everything, and...it was horrible. They didn’t know how to react, so they made a series of stupid decisions.”

Dean sighed in sympathy. “Yeah...that sucks. I’m sorry about that.”

Cas nodded. “It’s okay.”

The abrupt clicking of plates with fresh, warm food and hot liquids in front of the two interrupted their conversation. Dean flashed a smile at the waitress giving them their orders and thanked her.

Cas’ eyes met Dean’s, who was looking up to him as he licked the whipped cream off of the coffee. He chuckled at the sight.

At that moment, there was nothing but pure perfection.


	17. Against the Windowsill

_December 22nd_

 

_The hydrangeas are under snow_

_Are they your favorite flower?_

_You know it’s been a long time without peace_

_Look out as it rains against the windowsill_

_I know all the words you kept away for all this time_

_I believe in angels, did they send you back to me?_

_I know you love me like rain against the windowsill_

 

_I learned lessons about change_

_How you have come and gone_

_And you know deep down inside that it’s time_

_But you were scared to break free_

_You’re okay, see as it rains against the windowsill_

_Take my hand, I know you’re scared but change is here anew_

_I believe in angels, did they send me back to you?_

_I know you love me like rain against the windowsill._

 

_Like a child_

_Vulnerable_

_So love me softer_

_Let your arms down_

_I can feel you_

_Lead me to you_

_I always knew you’d come back, too._

 

***

 

The night of the 21st carried on into the early morning hours; the dead of night was alive with laughter and revival. Cas was in Dean’s room at one in the morning, both of them sitting on the floor.

Dean hit the floor, recovering from a fit of laughter from a story Cas told him. He inhaled after a moment. “Oh, my God,” he cackled, “that’s so bad.”

Cas was giggling, his hand on Dean’s shoulder. The two eventually calmed down from their laughing. Dean’s gaze reunited with Cas’.

Cas leaned back on the bed. “It’s good to be back,” he sighed happily.

Dean moved towards him. “Good to have you,” he exclaimed. He turned his head to face Cas. “It’s late,” he stated.

Cas sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We should probably sleep.”

Dean nodded. “You wanna, uh...take the bed? Or…”

“Is it big enough for both of us?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged nervously. “Yeah, I think so.”

Cas paused, awkward stares accompanied by silence filling the room before starting to laugh. He earned a confused look from Dean.

“What? What’s so funny?” Dean asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Dean, I know what this is about,” Cas giggled. His laugh settled down. “I know you’re scared to be close to me.”

Dean looked down at his knees, feeling his face heat up slightly. “No,  I’m not,” he denied. “I just thought...you didn’t like me.”

Cas sighed, shaking his head. “No, Dean. I’m not afraid anymore. I’ve learned, I’ve observed, and…” he paused to take Dean’s hand into his own. “I know that if there’s one thing that keeps leading me to you, it’s love.”

Dean’s eyes wandered up to a cerulean sea. It was bright and vibrant, unlike the last time he’d looked Cas in the eye. He pursed his lips.

Cas took in a breath. “Dean, if you couldn’t tell, I love you,” he confessed.

Dean blinked in surprise. “Cas…” he murmured. “I’m still...I still have issues. Okay? And even though I’m not gonna hurt myself or do something stupid, I-”

Cas put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, I don’t care. You’re working on it, you’re dealing with it. And I’m here alongside you in this journey now,” he insisted. “Do you trust me?”

Dean paused his movements before giving Cas a small nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I’d like to pick up where we left off. Minus the suicide,” Cas stated. “Because, Dean...if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’ve led me to a different path. And I know that it’s the right one for me. The one with all the diversity, with understanding and wisdom. You’re more mature than you let on, you know.”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Cas rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Is this okay? Are you good?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” He swallowed thickly. “I...I went to Florida in May. And...my grandma told me something. About us.”

Cas hummed in response. “You told her about us? What did she say?”

Dean shifted himself. “Said that if I loved you, and you loved me, it’d work out in the end.”

Cas sighed. “She’s right." He shifted his head to see Dean better. "And my parents don’t even know about all this, so you can see how dedicated I am,” he chuckled.

Dean put his arm around Cas. “So what does this mean? What even are we?”

Cas laughed with a shrug. “Whatever we were before, but stronger.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ forehead. “You’re right,” he agreed.

 

***

 

Christmas brought presents from quite a few people. The Winchesters didn’t exactly have a tree, but a random pinecone they found would do fine. Sam woke up eagerly at eight in the morning on Christmas before going to Dean’s room and shaking him awake. 

Dean responded with a groan, realizing how cold it was in his room. He fluttered open his eyes and stretched, noticing the light from the window flooding his room. “Oh, yeah. Merry...Chrysler.”

“Shut up and get out of bed, we have presents to open!” Sam laughed.

Dean closed his eyes. “Five more minutes. Or twenty,” he said.

Sam huffed. “No. You’re not ruining the Christmas spirit,” he declared. “Now come on! I’ll even make the food. Bacon, eggs, toast...”

“I guess that’s an offer I can’t turn down,” Dean mumbled.

Sam tugged at Dean’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go!”

Dean sat up on the edge of his bed, stretching once more before he finally stood up. He followed Sam downstairs as his eyes caught the brightly colored presents. “Presents first or breakfast?” Dean asked.

“Presents. What world do you live in?” Sam scowled in disgust.

Dean rolled his eyes, sitting on the couch. Sam stood by the pinecone that was surrounded by presents. He passed them, one by one, to Dean and to another part of the couch- two piles to differentiate who they belong to. “Do you wanna open them first?” Sam questioned.

Dean shrugged. “Sure.” Sam sat on the couch, intently watching him open his presents.

Dean read the tag. “To me. From Sam. Oh, thanks, little dude.” He tore off the wrapping made of painted newspaper and looked at the Red Robin gift card that was inside. “Food,” he grinned. “Hell yeah.”

Sam chuckled. “I’m glad you like it,” he affirmed.

Dean ripped through the presents excitedly until he was met by the last one. “From Cas. Oh, when did he drop that off?” 

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Dean ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a card and a small book called _Life’s Little Instructions._  He chuckled. “Of course you would, Cas,” he murmured. He opened the card with a cheesy Christmas phrase and a message from Cas:

 

_Dean,_

_I know you’re not very sappy, but read the book. Just try it. Maybe it’ll make you happier._

_P.S. Would you like to spend the New Year with me? Text me if you do. (It’s okay, Gabe and I made a plan that wouldn’t get us caught.)_

_Love,_

_Cas_

 

Cas’ phone number was scribbled at the bottom. Dean grinned at the letter. 

And maybe he was right- come the new year, Cas would be in his arms. How precious that felt in his heart, he would never be able to describe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is arrow with your daily reminder: do your part to save the planet or ur not allowed to read my fanfics  
> okay so the poem at the beginning is actually lyrics to a song i wrote pls dont steal


	18. A Long-Lost Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm back again!!! I got sick and died, but now I am revived. This one, I hope, is good...but slightly angsty. TW for light self-harm mentions at the end.

“Dean, how many more hours?”

Dean was laying on the couch in Gabe’s tiny apartment with Cas in his arms. It was New Year’s Eve and the place was decorated with gold and silver.

“Hour and a half,” Dean responded once he checked his phone.

Gabe was in the kitchen perfecting a homemade chocolate cake with his girlfriend, a sassy redhead whose name Dean forgot, by his side. The replay of the New Year’s countdown in New York was on the TV.

Cas stood up. “Dean, come outside with me. I need some fresh air and…” he glanced into the kitchen, seeing Gabe intensely kissing his girlfriend. “I need to unsee  _ that _ ,” he hissed.

Gabe parted his lips from the redhead’s and scowled at Cas. “As if you two have never done that,” he retorted.

Cas huffed. “Yeah, but...in front of the cake? Really? I was gonna eat that!”

Dean giggled, standing up beside Cas. “Does cake taste bad once it’s traumatized, Gordon Ramsey?”

Cas threw a glare at Dean. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Dean grinned, pressing an assuring kiss to Cas’ lips. “I am. But I gotta say, Gabe has helped our case, so…”

Cas rolled his eyes, grabbing an electric lantern from the coathanger by the door. “Fine, fine. Okay, come on, let’s go. I can’t handle any more of...that.”

“Like you guys aren’t gonna do it!” Gabe called as the two walked out, earning the typical death glare from Cas.

Cas and Dean were greeted by a shock of cold air, like tiny needles kissing their faces. Dean shuddered at the contact and subconsciously yearned for warmth; he instinctively reached out to put his arm around Cas for warmth, to which Cas responded by unobtrusively shuffling closer and leaning into Dean. He observed the content feeling for a moment, the sweet serenity of the silent snow sprinkling above them from the dark night sky before his attention wandered specifically back to Cas’ doings. “So why’d you bring me out here?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged with a slightly apathetic hum. “You’ll see.”

Dean followed Cas as he walked out to the parking lot behind the apartment complex. A thin layer of snow covered the asphalt of the road and differed with its dark, neutral color. The sidewalk underneath Dean’s feet soon converted to hard, frozen soil with the soft sound of the last fallen leaves crunching with every step. He found himself in a part of the forest he’d never explored before. The tall trees were familiar, but the lack of established trails was not. Yet, with the lack of any light source aside from the distant apartments and dim lantern, how could he have seen it anyway?

“You gonna get us lost, Cas?” Dean inquired sarcastically which returned a small giggle from Cas.

“Just right here is fine. I just wanted this to be, um...I don’t know, just between you and me,” he shrugged with a grin. He stopped walking any further and turned to Dean.

“A you-and-me kind of thing, hmm? What kind of thing are we doing?” Dean hinted teasingly with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” Cas laughed, playfully pushing Dean. “I wouldn’t do that in a forest. And not out of the blue, either.”

“Well, it would keep us warm,” Dean nudged.

“Dean!” Cas shouted through a laugh. “Shhh. Listen to me.”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Okay. What’s up?”

Cas seemed to get smaller once Dean’s attention was on him. He put his hands together to fidget. “I, um...I just wanted to say that...all of this, and how it happened…” he paused, eyes fixated at Dean’s feet before he looked up and locked their eyes together, “was because of you. It happened so quietly inside of me, but I just realized that I didn’t just love you. That word is taken lightly for something as intense as this. I don’t know what the feeling is and I don’t know how to describe it.”

Dean looked at Cas, whose eyes broke eye contact again. “I know,” Dean murmured.

Cas licked his slightly chapped lips. “I chose you, Dean. And I still choose you.” His fidgeting halted as he looked back up at Dean with a gentle face. “I was given so many choices, and I tried them, but I knew I could be myself with a select amount of people. And you’re...you’re just the one. I guess nobody can ever know for sure, but...this is something unbreakable.” He took a step closer. “Michael tried to stop it. My parents tried to stop it. We were separated for nine months. Hell, we’re even gay! But, Dean...the way I love you- and how I hope you love me- is something that I know only I can experience in the way that I have. Nobody will feel the same way about you as I do. And it’s almost like a secret inside me, and it makes me happy, makes me feel alive.”

Dean let out an uneasy breath. “Cas,” he whispered, “I don’t even know what to say. I...I love you, and I know you love me. And you’re not, uh...you’re not just a phase or a heartbreak- you’re important. I know we’re just two dumbass sixteen-year-olds and-”

Cas dropped his lantern on accident due to his attention being on Dean. “The lantern doesn’t like you,” he joked lightly before looking back up to Dean. “Continue.”

“Shhhh, I’m being sappy. Anyway, I know we’re young and stupid and we don’t know what we’re talking about, but...I don’t know, I just think that us-” he motioned to signify the both of them, “is right. I let go of you and you came right back to me once I did. And if that isn’t meant to be, then I don’t know what is.”

Cas’ gaze that was caught onto Dean turned into a soft grin. He pulled Dean into a hug that he leaned into, feeling safe and warm as Dean wrapped his arms around him. “I know that was vulnerable of you, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean hummed assuringly. “Come on, we should head back for the countdown.”

***

The sun shone through the window of Gabe’s tiny extra bedroom. Dean was laying in bed with Cas in his arms, and although the end of the night was hazy due to tiredness and the champagne that was given to them by Gabe, they were fully clothed. Dean was surprised, but liked having Cas in such a vulnerable state- asleep in his arms, giving all his trust to Dean. Adjusting to being awake was easy with the gentleness of Cas’ occasional shifting and his quiet breathing. Nothing could hurt him.

Unless he did. Or if he hurt himself.

Dean closed his eyes and shoved the thought away, but mentally refused to reopen his eyes in fear he'd see himself scratching away at his arms and remaking scars that were already there. He numbly melted away back into sleep with the sound of silence in his mind.


End file.
